Falling Through Worlds
by Kari Kurofai
Summary: Post DH. Harry's scar had not pained him for nearly 23 years. And he rather liked it that way. Until an accident sends him into a world where Voldemort is still at large. Draco/Harry, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna, Harry/Ginny, Sirius/Remus.
1. Chapter 1

**Falling Through Worlds: Into The Fire**

Harry's scar had not pained him in almost twenty-three years. And he rather liked it that way. On the other hand, however, he was definitely ageing a lot more than he cared to admit. The number forty made him gag. In all his years at Hogwarts, he had never imagined himself turning twenty, let alone double that. Ron kept pointing out to him that Dumbledore must have been older than snot to try and snap him out of what seemed to be a midlife crisis. But Harry merely replied that Dumbledore had not aged very well at all, which made Ron clamp his mouth shut, being five months or so older than Harry was.

But that didn't mean he hated life or anything like that, god forbid. He was perfectly fine with how things were. Except that it was incredibly boring. He had to slap himself every time he wished a more interesting job would come through for him at the Ministry. Interesting jobs involved rouge Voldemort supporters and dead bodies, and he'd have none of that.

All of his children were in school now, so it had become eerily quite around the house as of late. Ginny was working long hours at St. Mungos, and the Ministry seemed content to only send Harry out on miniscule jobs that frankly, even he felt were beneath him. Who'd have ever thought that the savior of the wizarding world would be chasing around exploding toilets on his working days? Certainly not Harry himself, that was for sure.

But so far today, he was having quite a pleasant afternoon, if he said so himself. McGonagall, who Ron nicely pointed out also must be older than snot by now, had invited them out to the Hogwarts Quiditch pitch to watch the match of Gryffindor against Slytherin. Although, this matter in itself put Harry in a rough position to say the least. He didn't know which team to cheer for.

His youngest child, Lilly Luna Potter was sitting to his right, between himself and Ginny, watching him carefully every time Gryffindor scored a point. His eyes easily caught her smirk when he refrained from any outward cheering for either team. _As sly as Hermione, that one,_ he thought to himself.

Lilly was a Slytherin. And though she did not play for the team herself, her father could see that she had as much house pride as any Slytherin. Too much. He was sometimes vaguely suspicious that she had somehow inherited something from Hermione with the odd looks she gave him now and then. Calculating, all-knowing looks that used to give him the chills when Hermione would stare at him like that. If he hadn't known that it was impossible for her to have any of Hermione's blood, he'd have been worried. As she turned back to concentrating on the game, Harry turned his attention to Ron, who was seated on his other side.

Hugo sat between Ron and Hermione, fiddling with his Gryffindor tie in a distracted manner. Ron's youngest acted as much like Neville had in his earlier years as Lily acted like Hermione. Ron was looking as bemused as Harry felt as to who to cheer for. The redhead's oldest child, Rosie, was the keeper for the Slytherin team. Harry could still remember the tearstained letter she'd sent back to them when she'd been sorted, thinking that her father's joke about disinheritance was serious. But despite being a Slytherin, Rosie's air was very similar to Ron's. Charlie had informed them regularly about how many detentions she'd received for either sassing off to the teachers, or letting lose some of her uncle's old pranks in the corridors. And her keeping skills were equal to Ron's, if not significantly better from her lack of stage-fright.

On the Gryffindor team, the keeper was James Sirius Potter, Harry's oldest. It spurned quite a bit of cousin rivalry among the school if Harry said so himself. One of the Beaters was his youngest nephew, only a first year, but bursting with the same talent his father had, the same sort of talent that had gotten Harry onto the team as a fist year. Fred Weasley was scrawny as hell, but Harry had no doubt that he'd grow into both his father's, and his deceased uncle's and namesake's shoes in a few years time. It reminded him of the old saying that Fred and George had ground into him years ago.

"_There's always a Weasley on the team, Harry."_

It made Harry's heart hurt to think about them, even now, so he turned his attention to the rest of the team instead. The lead Chaser for Gryffindor was his middle child, Albus Severus Potter, overflowing with the talent his mother had won countless games with. It had come as a shock to him that neither of his children wanted to pick up his old spot as Seeker, even though Albus had tried to explain it to him multiple times in the last two years.

"_Dad, I _suck_ at Seeking, believe me, I tried. And besides, you've never seen our Seeker fly. Scorp is . . . Oh, for goodness sakes, just come to the next match and you'll see what I mean."_

So here he was, watching the Gryffindor seeker with something akin to flat out awe. He'd seen clips of himself flying before, in recordings on old Omnoculars, or in pictures in the newspaper. There was nothing graceful about the way he flew at all. It was more like an imminent plummet towards certain death that just barely managed to keep him alive most days. To say that Scorpius Malfoy had more talent than him was an understatement to say the least.

Scorpius was the very image of his father, Draco. In personality and in flight. Harry had always admired Draco's much more graceful way of handling the broom, though he'd never admitted it, barely even to himself. Scorpius was double what his father had been. It was almost like watching a solo dance in the sky.

Harry had no doubt in his mind that Draco had received quite a shock when he'd heard that his only child was in Gryffindor. And as far as he'd known, Scorpius hadn't told his father until Christmas break. He himself could clearly remember the number of owls he'd received from Albus about the matter, one a day nearly, until he'd had to promise that Scorpius would have a place to stay if his father refused to see him again. And much to Harry's own surprise, Draco Malfoy had accepted the matter without so much as a yell. A few snide remarks here and there, but nothing more.

Albus and Scorpius bickered as he and Draco had done in their school days, insults constantly flying, and more often than not, fists too. But it was Harry who first noticed that they way they fought was much closer to the level that Hermione and Ron had fought on years ago. (Sometimes these days too, but he'd rather die than mention that to them.) He wasn't sure what he'd do if he one day had to flat out explain to Draco that there would be no Malfoy grandchildren unless he spawned another child.

The raven haired man turned his attention back to the sky again, where Scorpius was continuing his dance of searching for the snitch. Sometimes, Harry had to wonder if his youngest son was lying when he said that he'd have done no good as a Seeker. The way he partnered as a lookout with Scorpius took Harry's breath away. He remembered how hard it was to keep a lookout for where the rest of his team was, let alone a stray bludger when you had your eyes scouring for the snitch. Albus filled in for Scorpius's blind spots, ducking down to his side whenever he was not needed by his team, diving side by side with him whenever a bludger or a confused Slytherin chaser headed their way.

Harry couldn't recall when he noticed that something was off. Maybe it was the way that Fred suddenly looked confused as a bludger actually _dodged_ his Beater's bat. Or maybe it was the way that Albus suddenly swerved away from the Slytherin goal posts, dropping the quaffle on purpose, diving towards Scorpius like a raging bullet. And maybe, it was the startled gasp of Draco Malfoy behind him as everything suddenly went horribly wrong in every way possible. The bludger hurtled straight at Albus as he dived in front of Scorpius, knocking him backwards into the blond, sending them both tumbling off their brooms to the ground far below.

Ginny screamed, Ron held his hands to his mouth in horror, and Draco was only stopped from leaping over all the seats by Harry, who shoved him to the ground and apparated on the spot. He knew very well that apparation inside Hogwarts grounds was impossible. But hadn't Dumbledore always told him that _"Bending the rules is necessary if lives are at stake?"_

He reappeared in the air, grabbing onto both boys. He tried to dissaparate as he caught them, the ground looming close beneath them. But it seemed as though his magic was suddenly drained. Instead, he muttered a wordless, wandless _Wingarduim Leviosa_, more of a silent prayer than a spell, and sighed with relief as their weight drifted above him, just before he crashed with a sickening thud to the ground.

His world grew dark.

Harry's head was throbbing painfully as he opened his eyes, and he groaned as he found himself lying face down on cold stone bricks. There was a drip of blood trickling out of his mouth from where he'd apparently bitten his lip, but other than that, he couldn't find anything else wrong with him. He blinked and tried his best to see anything familiar about him, assuming that he was either at St. Mungos or in Madame Pomfrey's infirmary after such a dangerous stunt. He realized two things after a moment. One - he was not in either of those places at all. Two- he had no idea where his glasses were.

_Glasses now, panic later_, he thought to himself, beginning to skim his hand across dirty and rather damp bricks in search of his glasses. In all this time, he really should have thought to get contacts, with how much losing his glasses inconvenienced him in a fight. But then again, the only thing he fought these days were cursed toilets. He grinned as his fingers made contact with the thin metal of his glasses, and he pulled them over to him and set them on his nose with a sigh of relief.

Relief that was ultimately short lived. He had no idea where he was, now that he'd had a proper look around. As far as he could tell, he was crouched in the middle of a stone alleyway; trashcans piled high and spilling over on either side of him. In the distance, he could see the faint light of a fire, and he shivered. Even from here, he could tell that it was not the natural, homely sort of fire. It was a fire meant for destruction. He covered his ears and closed his eyes as he heard a scream not far off, getting the sinking, but familiar feeling that he was dreaming. Yes, that must be it. A dream from the war, years and years ago. This was not something that was happening right now, in the waking world. It was impossible. He did not have true dreams anymore.

Harry shivered again, and his eyes snapped open, his hands falling away from his ears as a wave of dread washed over him. With a fire like that nearby, he shouldn't feel so achingly cold. Well, with his age, maybe a little. But he wasn't _that_ old. And as his hands fell to his sides again, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Those were _not_ his hands. They were too small, too . . . Gangly, to be his hands. Plus, they were significantly more callused and less scarred. He raised a hand up to his forehead, brushing dark bangs aside to run his fingers over the lightning shaped scar. Scar, check. Apparently he was still Harry. At least, as far as he could tell, he was. He peered at the foggy, but reflective surface of the nearest trashcan, just barely able to make out dark unruly hair and emerald eyes hidden beneath thick glasses. Yup, still Harry.

Standing up, he was displeased to see that he'd shrunk. His clothes, though he couldn't remember ever owning such clothes, fit nicely. But he could tell that he was at least four inches shorter than he remembered being an hour ago. The only coherent thought he could come up with at the moment was that this was _not good_. Not good at all.

His first theory was a time trip. Hermione had explained them to him often enough. Something about traveling through time without the use of a Time Turner. A skill that ran in families. But he didn't recall anything in her explanation about becoming younger because of such a thing, as he assumed he had done. Oh, how he wished he'd never wished for something interesting to happen.

He never had time to think of a second theory, as he shivered with cold again, an awful realization forming in his mind. Harry scrambled to his feet, patting his pockets and groaning in horror as his suspicions, at least one of them, were confirmed. His wand was gone. The second of his suspicions was confirmed as the walls around him began to crackle as a light layer of frost spread across them from the far end of the alleyway.

Harry was about to turn tail and run, the icy breath of Dementors ghosting down the alley. He had turned and taken half a step when the rapid pounding of feet behind him told him that the Dementors were chasing someone. He sighed to himself how he knew he'd feel eternally guilty if he let someone die because he'd run like a coward, so he turned back around.

A boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen came barreling around the corner, breathing hard, grey eyes wild with fear beneath the stray golden brown bangs that hung in front of them. He appeared not to see Harry, and gasped in surprise as he smacked right into them, knocking them both down against a trashcan in a flurry of tangled limbs and waste as the bin toppled over on top of them. He growled in what Harry recognized as a mixture of annoyance and frustration, a light whimper of fear mixed into it as their breath suddenly became visible. The boy stumbled to his feet, wiping trash off of his already filthy clothes, "Oh hell, oh hell. Are you sodding insane? Standing in the middle of the alley there? Now I'm done for you crazy git!"

Harry stared up at him in a mixture of disbelief and recognition. The hair color was distinctly different, but he could see the platinum blond at its roots, giving away that it was a bad dye job. But the eyes, the voice, and that snide tone were all too familiar. "Malfoy?" he whispered, head spinning.

The boy whirled around to look at him, startled, and afraid, "Holy . . . How the hell do you know my name?!" He grabbed the front of Harry's shirt, pulling him to his feet and out of the trash. A wand was suddenly at his throat, demanding an answer even as their breath visibly mingled together and the lights in the apartments overhead flickered on and off, a warning that the Dementors would be on them any second. "Answer me you bloody prick!" Draco Malfoy screamed, hysteria clear in his voice, his eyes darting to the end of the alleyway. "You're one of The Dark Lord's men, aren't you? Well, one less in a moment I suppose."

"The Dark-" Harry cut himself off with a cry of surprise, "You mean Volde-"

"Shit! Don't say his name!" Draco's hand was over Harry's half open mouth in an instant. His silver-gray eyes flickered over to the end of the alleyway once more, widening as a dark form slipped around the corner. "Oh . . . Shit." He loosened his grip on Harry, grabbing his wrist instead, "We're going to run now, got it?"  
"Huh?"

"Just shut up and run if you don't want to be a soulless idiot!" Draco yelled, dragging him headlong down the alleyway. They dashed around the corner, Harry watching with dread as the walls around them creaked as frost licked its way across the stones. He twisted his hand so that he gripped Draco's wrist as well, making sure that they wouldn't get separated, the blond didn't object, pulling him along as they ran. They skidded through a puddle, nearly losing their footing as the stones became slick with moss and water.

"Why are you helping me?" he panted as they charged through a barricade of trashcans, knocking them aside and slipping on old food and paper.

"Because only a fool would try and utter The Dark Lord's name!" Draco huffed beside him, darting around another corner. "And as it stands, even fools can be useful to us." He stopped short, sucking in a terrified breath as they nearly smacked into a dead-end. "Except that we are apparently about to die," he muttered to himself, "Goodbye soul."

Harry's eyes searched frantically for a door, a ladder, anything that could get them though this wall. He held his breath as a Dementor drifted lazily around the corner, looking as if it hadn't been chasing them at all. "Malfoy, give me your wand," he whispered, their backs pressed against the stone wall.

"Hell no. I don't even know you!"

Harry paused, the statement striking him as odd, but he filed it away for later, "Do you want to live or not, Malfoy?" The wand was shakily pressed into his hand, his other, he still realized, gripping Draco's wrist as if it was a lifeline. The Dementor floated closer, and Harry could hear Draco's groan of fear as it reached out a skeletal hand towards them. _Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts . . . _

He squeezed Draco's wrist as he noticed the boy's eyes sliding closed, half out of fear, half from the Dementors beginning to get to him as another emerged from around the corner. Harry drew in a shaky breath, trying to keep his mind focused. It had been years since he'd done the spell.

_Ginny was running towards him, a blazing determined look on her face-_

Not good enough.

"_I'm you're godfather, Harry._"

No, not good enough.

_A door falling to the floor of a rotted, rundown old cabin, a hulking shadow filling the space it had once occupied. _

"_You're a wizard, Harry. And a damn good one at that, if y'er mum and da are anthin' to go by."_

Harry raised the wand, eyes set and straightforward, squeezing Draco's wrist again. He had no reason to try and comfort the other, really. But somehow, he felt that this was not the Draco Malfoy he knew. So he raised Malfoy's wand, a wand he'd held before. In fact, the wand he'd used to defeat Voldemort. It was that thought that sent a spark of determination through him as he cast the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver stag erupted from the wand tip, rearing its head fiercely and charging towards the Dementors, hooves flailing threateningly in the air. The dark specters recoiled and shrank back, a sound coming from them that could only be described as screaming as the stag ripped through them, pushing them away from its master. Harry caught Draco around the back as he sunk to the ground, eyes flickering open in astonishment.

"What _is_ that?" the blond whispered, fingers tangling into Harry's robes as he stared at the silvery stag wide-eyed. "How did you . . ."

"Patronus charm," Harry mumbled, watching as the dementors fled in wake of the silver light. "You've never heard of it?"

"If I had known there was a way to just make them leave, I wouldn't have been running," Draco said sarcastically, sitting up, Harry's hand still steadying him. He gave the other a quick, uncertain glance, letting go of Harry's robes, "Who _are_ you?"

Harry raised a confused eyebrow. If he really had tripped through time, then shouldn't Malfoy recognize him? "Harry Potter," he said slowly, trying to decide if this was all some trick of Malfoys.

To his utter surprise, Draco laughed, "Oh, that's rich. Really mate, if you're going to use a fake name, pick one that's actually believable," the blond giggled, rolling on the ground.

The Gryffindor huffed, slightly offended, "But I am! Look!" He pushed his wayward bangs up, revealing the lightning shaped scar above his eyes, "See?"

Malfoy stared at him a moment, still on the verge of another fit of laughter, "Woohoo," he mocked, "You have a funny scar. What does that prove?"  
"That I'm Harry Potter!" Harry said in exasperation, starting to become a more than a little panicked. He'd never seen any wizard who didn't know who he was. And even though he'd always wished it was the opposite, now that it was, he was alarmed.

Draco smirked at him in the air that he had while they were still in school, the cold smile of someone looking at an idiot. In strange way, that made Harry feel a bit calmer. "Either you're really, _really_ confused," Draco started, his voice turning serious, "Or you're mental, period. Everyone knows that The Dark Lord killed the Potters years ago."

Harry couldn't breathe, "Wh-what?"  
"Yeah," Draco said nonchalantly, "All dead. James, Lily, and Harry. Killed by the Avada Kedavra on Halloween sixteen years ago." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful, "Apparently there was this prophecy about the baby, Harry. But The Dark Lord killed him, so I guess we'll never know what would have happened. Bloody sucks though, that. Thinking that maybe we could have been free of this mess ages ago if that baby had grown up." He shrugged, "But there's no point in wishing now, is there." His gray eyes found Harry again, and he grabbed the other by the shoulder, seeing the shocked look on his face, "Hey, are you all right?"  
"Draco . . ." Harry whispered, "Where are we?"

"Muggle London," Malfoy said easily, his gaze growing concerned.

"And what year is it?"

"1997," Draco said slowly, "Why? Forget to look at a paper recently?" He gasped in shock as Harry merely stared at him, and fainted dead away.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Another piece of insane randomness. =_= I don't know why, okay? Because I'm sick and had a spur of the moment crack helping of HP fanfiction? I read probably thirty in the last two days. And not oneshots either, mind you. Multichapters. Some of which I was horrified to find uncompleted. Including All The Proud Shall Be and Catharsis. D:

I am greatly displeased. *Snape face*

Anywho . . . So I've been wanting to write something where Harry stumbles into an alternate reality for ages. And after reading all that fanfiction, I've been saying 'ages' a lot. :p So I think I'll continue this, sooner or later. If I have people who REVIEW that is. *stares* because I have big plans for this shizzle. BIG plans. Though it will be very dark at some points. Many points, I lied. What would you expect from a world where Harry never defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a baby? Draco's involvement can be explained. Later. :D

But don't you think that Scorpius and Albus make a cute pair? I love it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Falling Through Worlds: Blood and Bonds**_

_Albus hit the ground with a ragged cough as the breath was knocked out of him, Scorpius touching down beside him with a startled huff. Their chests heaved as they fought for air, Albus being the first to act, rolling over onto his stomach and lifting himself up onto his elbows. The quiditch pitch was suddenly eerily silent, as if in perpetual shock of what had just happened. Albus's blood ran cold as he realized why they had landed on the ground, levitation charm or not. They could not remain airborne even a foot if something had happened to the caster of the spell. He struggled to his feet, clenching fistfuls of grass in his hands as he raised himself to his knees. His emerald eyes remained trained on the ground, however, too scared to look behind him and see what had become of his father._

_Scorpius, still at a loss for air crawled over to him, grasping his wrist and shaking his head slowly just as the crowd erupted into a terrified mixture of cries and wails. His gaze remained on the ground as he heard footsteps behind him, and hands rested on his shoulders. The hands prodded at him along his head, spine, and ribs before urging him to his feet, the same done for Scorpius._

"_Up, get up you two, you have nothing more than a possible sprain between the two of you," it was his aunt Hermione's voice, a hand under each of their arms as she pulled them to their feet. He cast her a glance and looked away just as quickly as he met distracted, worried eyes. His wrist was squeezed as he turned away again, Scorpius drawing closer to him and whispering something near his ear._

"_Don't look," he murmured, closing his eyes as if he too could not bear the sight behind his teammate. But he opened them once more a moment later, deciding to bear witness for what he would not let Albus see._

_Harry Potter lay on the ground in an unnatural tangle of limbs, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the darkening sky. Blood pooled out beneath him where shattered bones had pierced flesh, steadily seeping into the grass. Scorpius drew in a strangled breath, pulling Albus to him and tucking the other boy's head against his shoulder to shield his eyes from the sight. But he continued to watch, as if it was his duty. A second or two later, and that would have been Albus, and himself. The fact that they were both alive right now was nothing short of a miracle. As was the fact that Harry had been able to apparate, despite the wards._

_Hermione was standing next to them, checking them over again now that they were on their feet. And to Scorpius's surprise, his father was among the crowd gathered to kneel around the fallen idol. Draco Malfoy hissed between his teeth and cast a shield charm at the crowd as he made his way to it's head, forcing them back from Harry's body. He lifted it briefly as Ginny and Madame Pomfrey bustled up to him, but otherwise held it in place to keep the rest of the witches and wizards at a safe distance. Ginny was wailing hysterically, completely forgetting her training as a medi-witch in her panic._

"_He's dead!" she screamed upon seeing the blood, "He's dead!"_

_Scorpius placed a hand on Albus's head, covering his ears as his father cast a mutinous glare at the redhead, "He's still breathing Weasellette!" he snapped, "Now shut up and get him out of here before these idiots break through the charm!" He sounded impatient, though Scorpius knew very well that his father could hold a sheild charm for hours against even that many people. _

_Madame Pomfrey conjured up a stretcher, waving at Ginny to begin casting some bone-mending spells as quickly as possible. Draco turned his glare from them to the ground pressing against his Protego spell with narrowed eyes, lifting the invisible shield slightly as Ron approached him. The redhead did not venture any closer to Harry than Draco did, waving his wand to reinforce the spell._

_The Gryffindor seeker trained his gaze on them instead of Harry now, covering Albus's ears from the sickening sound of bones snapping back together. Hermione was still hovering over them, asking about his ankle, which he just noticed was beginning to swell, but he ignored both her and the pain._

"_Jinxed Bludger," Draco muttered under his breath, catching Ron's blue eyes with his own in a knowing look as Scorpius strained his ears to listen to their conversation._

_Ron shook his head, "And a Confunded Hooch. Otherwise she would have levitated Al and Scorpius, not Harry." His eyes narrowed, "And with the distance we were at, the spell wouldn't have worked if he hadn't apparated to them." He sighed, "So now . . ."_

"_We figure out who did the cursing," Draco finished, rolling his eyes with feigned annoyance. "It must have been someone after either myself or Potter, what would they want with the children?" "Going after the child to make the parent suffer?" Ron suggested with a scowl. "I don't know anymore, Malfoy. If it hadn't been your own son that bludger went at, I would suspect you."_

_Draco snorted, "As if, Weasel. You know very well that I work for the Ministry. I've been put under as much veritiserum as any other Death Eater, and probably more than the recommended dose as well." He trained his gaze on the crowd again, muttering a strengthening spell under his breath, "And as I recall, you owe me your life on more than one occasion still," he smirked._

_The redhead growled and let out a frustrated huff, "Shut up, Ferret. So who's our main suspect then? Rouge Death Eaters are your department, not mine." His eyes grew downcast, "Yours and Harry's . . ."_

"_Right," Draco said slowly, "And we haven't had proper work in over two years, Weasel. No rouge Death Eaters around anymore, far as we know." He paused, "Except . . ." Ron's eyes widened as Draco leaned over and whispered something to softly for Scorpius to hear. The redhead hissed between his teeth in disbelief, "Merlin's pants, Malfoy. He's been dead for two decades now!"_

"_Was there a body?" Draco said through gritted teeth, watching as Ron slowly shook his head, "Then we can not assume! May I remind what other person had no body when the wizarding world assumed his death?" Ron shook his head furiously, to which Draco nodded, "Right. And look how that turned out. He disappeared into the fire and we just assumed. Potter and I were tracking a lead on what shockingly seemed to be him before they started putting us on cursed toilets duty two years ago. Apparently the Boy Who Lived_ can still be declared mildly insane whenever they deem fit." At this, he chanced a glance back at Harry with a grimace, "He kept working on it after that, Gallant Gryffindor and all that."

Madame Pomfrey stood up, waving the stretcher towards them with Harry's limp body on it, "Cast the shield around us until we can get up to the hospital wing," she commanded. Hermione pushed Scorpius and Albus ahead of her as they ducked in between Draco and Ron, projecting a bubble-like Protego about he group as they went. "Hurry now!" Madame Pomfrey urged, levitating the stretcher at her side as they bustled through the crowd and towards the castle.

Ginny made a strangled sounding noise as she cast blood level charm over her unconscious spouse, "He's lost too much blood!"

Draco flicked his gaze to her from where he was walking backwards, keeping the crowd behind them before he glanced at Hermione, "Switch spots with me," he ordered, waiting for her to project a shield charm in his place before striding up to the stretcher. He ruffled Scorpius's hair reassuringly as he passed, eyes fixed on the charm Ginny held over the limp form. "Pomfrey, cast the blood letting spell for me please," he said with a frown as he stared at the level on the charm Ginny had cast.

Harry's wife made a threatening gesture towards him, "Hell no. You could cast a blood binding on him that way. I'll give him the blood he needs."

The blond rolled his eyes, "You can't."

"And why can't I?!"

It was Madame Pomfrey who interrupted the impending fight, "Mrs. Potter, you should know very well that you can not give Mr. Potter blood. First of all, your types do not match. Second of all, neither does your magic level. Wizards and Witches need both for a transfusion." She waved her wand over Draco and then Harry with an impatient tsk of her tongue, the castle doors swinging open in front of her.

"Then have Hermione give him the blood!" Ginny hissed in protest as Draco pressed his wand to his wrist. "She has the same blood-type as him" "I can't, Ginny," Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder at them, "Harry has a very unique magical signature, too strong for my blood to work right." "Hate to say it," Ron muttered, "But Draco's the only one here that can give him blood at all. Maybe the only wizard _anywhere_ that can," he bit his lip. "Dumbledore used his blood first and second year to treat Harry. And then Sirius's for a few after that. But since Padfoot is gone . . ."

"My blood was used after your idiot's fun little romp in the Ministry fifth year too," Draco snorted, sliding his wand along his wrist with a muttered incantation. Blood welled up from a near invisible cut, rising into the air and disappearing over Harry's body. "It's not fun mind you. And someone might wanna conjure me another stretcher actually. I set the spell to work until his levels are at stable." He swayed slightly on the spot, but maintained his balance until they entered the hospital wing, kneeling down at the side of Harry's bed as they lifted the former Gryffindor onto it. 

Scorpius sat on the bed opposite, allowing Albus to gaze with worry at the adults across the room. His father was growing impossibly paler by the minute as his blood drained into Harry, and even after the spell stopped, he remained kneeled at the side of the bed, dizzy from blood loss. Madame Pomfrey scurried around all of them, applying various spells to Harry as McGonagal entered the room with Neville Longbottm close behind. The later of the two was carrying a jar of some sort of brackish puss looking substance, which he handed over to the healer as he came in.

"Shock relief salve," Scorpius said in Albus's ear, "Made from the shòkə vigne plant. Proffesor Longbottom has one in greenhouse six." He let his hand rest in Albus's, tucking his head against is shoulder again as Ginny and Madame Pomfrey began rubbing the mixture onto Harry's back, legs, and arms. 

A silence settled over the room as Madame Pomfrey cast another charm over him, examining the results that appeared with a distressed look. "Why isn't he waking up?" Ginny whispered, casting Neville and accusing look, "The salve is supposed to snap him out of his shock and wake him up!"

"Magical coma," Madame Pomfrey said before Neville could stutter out an apology. "It's not Proffessor Longbottom's fault, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione drew in an anguished breath, "Oh no . . . But, Madame Pomfrey, he'll wake up eventually, won't he?" She didn't answer tight away, "You know as much as I do, Mrs. Weasley, more I might suspect. It is a _magical_ coma."

"What-" Ron started.

"It means his soul is no longer in his body," Draco said lowly, his chin resting on the bed, his gray eyes unfocused with vertigo. "Bloody hell . . ."

Albus sobbed at the realization of what had been said, burying his face against Scorpius's chest to cover the noise.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Harry could hear their voices in the darkness. Ginny's sobs and Hermione's questions. Ron's frustrated ranting and Draco's even breathing near his head and his mutterings of _idiot Gryffindor_. But those noises seemed so far away, he paid them little heed. Instead he focused on the one that was mumbling things about an unconscious lunatic.

He had half hoped that passing out would send him back to where he'd been before, and where the voices where currently coming from. Where his children were playing quiditch, Voldemort had been dead for years, people had heard of Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy and himself were forty years old, not seventeen. Except that when he did regain consciousness, he knew his half hopes were in vain.

A cool cloth was pressed against his forehead, stray drops of water snaking down the side of his face and across his jaw line. Someone's hand was holding the cloth in place, and the other was over his chest, presumably keeping track of his steady heartbeat. Harry groaned and cracked open his eyes only for emerald to meet silver-gray, and immediately closed them again. There was an annoyed huff from the person above him, the hand on his chest twisting to pinch him harshly. The raven haired teen hissed in surprise and sat up, the wet cloth sliding down into his lap. "What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing his chest where he knew a welt was starting to form.

Draco sat on his knees less than two feet away, slim eyebrow raised, "That's my line, prat. Do you know how hard it was to drag you somewhere decently sheltered? Fainting like a girl is not allowed."

"I did not-"

"Like a girl," Malfoy repeated with a smirk.

Harry merely rolled his eyes, deciding not to argue. His gaze instead skimmed briefly over his surroundings. They seemed to be inside of a very run down, abandoned factory. Old machinery was rusted over and the brick walls charred with long ago fire. He turned his gaze back to Draco as the other absently flicked dyed golden-blond hair out of his eyes.

"Mind telling me who you really are?" Malfoy asked, still playing with his hair.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry muttered with an exasperated sigh.

The blond blinked and rolled his eyes, letting go of the strand of hair he was fiddling with, "Right. Let's try another question then." He pointed an accusing finger at the other, "How do you know my name?"

The shorter teen pulled his legs up against his chest, resting his chin on his knees, "You really wouldn't believe me, even if I told you." "Try me," Draco scoffed, not about to be outsmarted.

"I'm physic," Harry said sarcastically.

"And I'm a lie detector, try again."

Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised that _Draco Malfoy_ knew what a lie detector was. "I'm not from here," he tried.

"Guessed as much," Draco shot back.

"No, I mean . . . I'm not from this time," he continued, blinking at the _you are clearly a nutcase_ look that the blond gave him. "Or from this world," he added, watching as the intensity of the look increased. He decided to ignore it. "In my world, Vol-" a sharp, warning glare, "Er- You-Know-Who, died. Years and years ago." "Oh?" Malfoy said quietly, half intrigued, half sarcastic. "And how did that happen?" "I killed him," Harry mumbled softly, "twice, actually. Once when I was a baby on Halloween night." He noted Draco's eyes widening in recognition, "But he returned. And I killed him again when I was seventeen." "You can't be much older than that now," Draco pointed out logically.

"I seem to have lost a few years on the way here," Harry grumbled, more to himself than to the blond. He sighed deeply, lifting his head from his knees, "And now you think I'm psychotic."

Draco tilted his head to the side, studying him carefully, "No." Harry was surprised not just by the answer, but by the honesty in his gaze. "I've lived with a lot of different people over the years, Potter. And I've learned not to judge. If you say it's true, I'll believe you." He smirked suddenly, holding up a tiny vial of a clear liquid that made Harry's heart sink, "Oh, and this helps out too."

Veritiserum. Harry's eyes narrowed, "But I lied to you already, saying I was physic."

"Is that a complete lie?" Draco prompted. 

Harry hesitated, defeat washing over him, "No." His eyes narrowed, "But I think it's time that I got to ask you some questions, hmm?" He grinned as Draco blanched, "First, what side are you on?" "The side that keeps me alive," the blond said darkly.

He hadn't expected any other answer, "Okay," Harry said slowly, "You said you'd lived with a lot of different people, correct?" A nod. "Where's your father, Lucius?"

"Dead," Draco drawled out, looking bored by the question. "Killed by the Dark Lord for insubordination. Or at least, _assumed_ insubordination," he smirked at this, flicking a stray strand of hair from gray eyes again. "Back on that same Halloween _Harry Potter_ was killed on, actually. The Dark Lord had some sort of psycho list. I was second on there, set to be handed to him that night by my father. I was kidnapped instead."

Harry's interest and curiosity perked at this, "Is that so . . . Who was the kidnapper then?" He blinked as Draco's expression suddenly turned guarded.

"That is a question I can not answer."

The shorter boy did not press the matter further, "This list of You-Know-Who's, who else was on it?" He was confused as to why Draco had been deemed a threat.

Draco cocked his head again, thinking, "Let's see . . . I think I should deem that as classified, Potter. Since that is a heavily guarded secret of the Order."

"Order?" Harry's heart leapt with hope, "The Order Of The Phoenix?" The blond shot him another surprised, wary look, "Yes." "Can you take me there?" Harry asked, eyes shining.

The other smirked, amused by his enthusiasm, "We'll see. I'll take you there, right enough. But whether you'll be excepted is another matter." He shrugged, "Bosses orders, not my decision. You shoulda seen the shit I had to go through to get in. I think Nev beats you in being sodding insane any day."

Harry started, "Neville? Neville Longbottom?" Draco's eyes focused on him again, narrowed and questioning, "No one is supposed to know that, even the Dark Lord-" his words were cut off as an eerie howl suddenly echoed outside the crumbling factory walls. The wooden door behind them cracked and splintered as something heavy slammed against it. Draco's mouth dropped open, eyes wide with fear, "Merlin's- tonight is just not my night at all, is it." He stood up, grabbing Harry's wrist, "Got any spells to ward off fully changed werewolves, Potter?"

"No," Harry whispered, watching as the door shook and creaked, the howls turning into snarls at the smell of living flesh. His eyes shifted around the room, looking for another door that didn't exist. His hand suddenly twitched in Draco's grip, catching the other's fingers as he spotted an old, mangy and charred looking broom in the corner, "There!" "Are you nuts?" Draco hissed as he was dragged towards the item, shuddering as claws scraped against the sealed door. "That's just an ordinary muggle broom! Wizard broomsticks were banned and burned by the Dark Lord over ten years ago!" He groaned as Harry motioned for him to hand over his wand anyways.

"Repairo," Harry whispered, smiling as the broom shook off the charred bits to look good as new. He handed the wand wordlessly back to Draco and picked the item up, swinging one leg over it with a pleased look at how sturdy it was, "What makes a broom fly is the magic of the wizard that holds it," he whispered, a determined look flaring into his eyes. "That's what Hermione told me. This was how they used to fly before wizards began to manufacture brooms for quiditch." He grabbed Draco's sleeve and pulled him on behind him as the howls and snarls grew louder, the door snapping under the weight of the creatures behind it. Harry bent his knees, trying to focus all his energy into the item as he had back in his first year at Hogwarts. "All right . . . Up!"

The wolves crashed through the door and Draco gasped with surprise as the broom shot off the ground, his arms tangling around Harry's stomach for dear life as the other laughed in triumph. They wobbled in the air as the werewolves shuffled to stand below them, snarling up at them. "Fuck," Harry hissed as they began to sink, the wolves springing up towards their dangling feet. "Draco, you have to believe that the broom will fly! Focus your magic into it!" "It's just a muggle broom!" he shrieked as one of the wolf's claws scrapped along his ankle, tearing at skin and pants.

Harry let out a frustrated groan, willing the broom to rise again as the wolves snapped at his legs, just barely missing. "Malfoy! Listen to me, where I come from you were an _amazing_ Seeker! You flew all the time!"

"A Seeker?" Draco's breath caught in his throat as he pulled his injured foot up onto the broom, watching the blood seep through the bottom of his trousers.

"Though not as good as me," Harry goaded with a smirk.

Draco's gray eyes narrowed, "What?! I bet I was way better than you! I bet I could fly circles around your arse any day!" He gasped as the broom rose higher, the wolves howling in anger as it leapt out of their reach. 

Harry laughed again, relief washing over him, "And I beat you in every match we played," he continued.

"Lies!" Draco retorted, the broom streaking up, up towards the ceiling where a small, burned hole lay in the roof. He raised a hand over his head as they burst through it, wincing as the wood splintered against his arm. "I bet I always caught the snitch and you're just jealous!" "And I recall it being the opposite," Harry chuckled, guiding the broom through the air with the slightest shift to the right.

The blond snorted in disbelief, turning his attention to other matters as the howls of their pursuers grew distant, "Wait . . . You never told me you knew me from wherever you came from."

"Must have slipped my mind," Harry said lowly.

Draco didn't fail to catch the way the words were spoken, "We weren't friends then." There was no response, "Why not?"

"Because Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix," the other said with an air of stating the obvious.

"Sly-ther-in?" Draco sounded the name out, confusion in his voice, "What's that?" Harry glanced back at him, confused, "A house in Hogwarts. You were sorted into it, and I was in Gryffindor." He pointed at Draco with a free hand, "Snake," then to himself, "Lion. You know?" Draco's eyes were blank, "Never been to Hogwarts," he said bluntly. "It was burned to the ground the week after that Halloween."

Shock sparked up Harry's body, "Wh-what? But the Order . . . Surely Dumbledore-" "Burned along with the school," Draco said quietly. "I told you, Nev's the boss-man. We're the oldest in the order, I think."

Harry felt his heart shudder with grief. So many dead, and all because he hadn't lived. It was a sick, cruel price to pay because of his failings. "Tell me where Neville is now. I need to know what exactly happened in this world," he ordered. And this time, Draco did not protest.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Back, by strangely popular demand! O_o this thing that was so random in my mind got so much better reception than I thought it would. 

Anywho . . . This world is massively fucked. Think about it logically, really. If Harry had died as a baby, everything would have gone to hell. The last strings of the Order are falling apart and Hogwarts doesn't exist. Also, I got to fill in the first part of the chapter with present day/world stuff too, so that was fun. I like assuming everyone's lives after the 7th book. All in all, Harry, Ron, and Draco are all Aurors. Draco and Harry work in the same department, and Ron in a slightly lower one. Harry and Draco's is the investigation and resistance roundup sorta area. Ginny is a Medi-witch at St. Mungo's, and Hermione is a researcher of sorts, who works in Magical Fusion, which will be discussed later.

Next chapter will be a flashback of sorts from the AU Draco. The reason he's alive, and the reasons behind what the Voldemort of the AU does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Falling Through Worlds: The One Who Was There**

Sorry so late. D: but my beta seems to have vanished, again. So if u want some work with this ficy, pelase say so in ur reveiw, thankies. But there are going to be mistakes by the butloads until then. Forgive me. I try.

_Harry was used to the dream, and used to recognizing it for being just that, a dream. He was lying back against cool grass, the blades tickling his arms. The sun tingled against his skin, letting him know that it was a nice day out, though he had yet to open his eyes. There was a cool breeze ruffling his hair, and he smiled to himself. The hand was covering his eyes just like it always was. Not wanting him to see this beautiful, much too perfect world he often took solace in in his state of unconsciousness. "Why won't you let me see it?" he asked, the same question he'd been asking for years._

"_Because you are not yet meant to," the tone was low, annoyed with having to provide the same answer time and time again. _

"_Stubborn git," Harry mused more to himself than anything, smirking._

_There was no reply from the other except for an exasperated sigh, "I am not here to be insulted by you, Mr. Potter."_

"_Hmm, I know," Harry replied smoothly. "But you don't have to come at all, really. Believe me, I'd much rather speak to Professor Dumbledore, or Remus, or Sirius, than you."_

"_As you have clearly told me before," The voice said evenly. "But they would do nothing but coddle you, and tell you nothing but perfect reassurances that everything can always end happily. That's not what you want or need, is it."_

"_You have a sick sense of humor, Severus," Harry muttered, smiling slightly._

"_And I take pride in it," Severus Snape replied. The fingers covering Harry's eyes slackened a bit, "You're troubled," it was an obvious statement_

"_I am," Harry admitted. "Wouldn't you be too, if you'd discovered what I have found? Another world where I died years ago, and everything is worse than I ever would have imagined it would be." He sighed, "I always blamed myself for not killing him as a baby, even though I had no conscious choice in the matter. But I never thought about what would have happened if I had not lived at all."_

"_It's not something one normally considers."_

"_No, it's not," Harry relented. "Severus . . . I'm scared." It wasn't as much of a cry for help as it was simply an admission of a weakness. _

"_It is no cowardice to be afraid," Snape murmured._

"_But I'm not scared like I usually am," he wasn't sure why he felt that he had to explain this. "I was scared before, for Albus and Scorpius when they fell. But that was not for myself. I haven't been scared fro my own life since . . ." He paused, swallowing hard._

"_I remember," Snape shushed him, not urging him to speak aloud his darkest of memories. "When you went into the forest to die. I have not forgotten," even though his eyes remained covered, Harry could tell that Professor Snape was looking away. "Why are you frightened now then?"_

"_Because this isn't where I belong," Harry whispered, "It isn't my world, or my home."_

"_Who says that you do not belong there?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a direct statement. "There was a place set aside for you in every world, Potter."_

"_But the me who should be there is dead."_

"_Then is it not your place to fill?"_

"_I'm not needed."_

_He could sense the smirk behind Snape's words, "The Boy-Who-Lived was never _needed_, Potter. But he was always wanted, and that's a different matter entirely."_

"_Need is a necessity," Harry muttered. "Want is a desire."_

"_Correct," Snape said solemnly. "But your friends never _needed_ to stand at your side when things went wrong. They _wanted_ to. There are people here that will desire your courage and assistance as well. But not out of need."_

"_Draco doesn't trust me," Harry said slowly, darkly._

"_Do you trust him?" "No," it was an honest reply. _

"_Trust is a mutual thing, Potter," Snape informed, "You have to give it to receive it."_

"_But Malfoy-"_

"_They are one and the same, yes. But you can start over with this one. Take the hand that was offered to you, and make amends for the faults that were yours."_

"_But he was a right git from the beginning!" "And did you ever give him the chance to be anything but that?"_

_Harry's breath caught in his throat at this, his heart sinking with horrible realization, "No . . ."_

"_Correct. The Harry Potter who always believed in second chances, even with the Dark Lord, couldn't throw his pride aside for one second to extend the same courtesy to someone who may have needed it more than anyone else. Even the headmaster tried to do what you never even thought of, Potter. And you saw it to, how, for a split second, he nearly succeeded. That is, until I was forced to step in." A sigh escaped him at this, and his fingers tightened over the boy's eyes again, "There are many things one does not regret until it is far too late, Potter. Try and think of this as a second chance to make right what you _both_ did wrong."_

Harry jolted awake, a cold sweat lingering on his body and his breath coming in uneven puffs in the chilly night air. The sun was just barely starting to creep above the horizon, and he shifted where he sat, back rubbing uncomfortably against the bark of the tree he was perched in. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he found himself unconsciously glancing around for Draco. It made him uneasy to think that if the blond suddenly decided to run off that he would be completely lost in this world.

He found Draco sitting on a branch a few feet higher up, the broom they'd flown here on balanced on his knees. Harry climbed up to join him, rubbing his hands over his goose bump covered arms, trying not to shiver. "Can't we light a fire or something?" he asked softly, scrambling up beside him, foot slipping a bit as he teetered for a moment before Draco put a hand against his back to steady him.

"It would give away our position," Draco replied, propping the broom up against the trunk. He cast Harry a wary look, shifting his eyes away just as fast.

And Harry didn't fail to catch sight of it, "You still don't trust me," he said, knowing he was stating fact.

Draco shook his head, lowering his gaze to the ground below, "Not really. Even if I said I believe your story . . . It's still hard to get used to the idea. I mean, I grew up hearing all about what you could have been. It's not that easy."

Harry tilted is head to the side, confused, "Hearing about what I could have been? How's that?"

The blonde's eyes grew unusually dark and strangely defensive, "I suppose I can tell you one thing, it's common knowledge in this world." His shoulders hunched, "You were only one in a series of people meant to be killed that night, Potter," he mumbled, as if afraid that speaking it aloud would bring unwanted guests. "I don't know why everyone but you was on the list, they just were." He held up a hand, four fingers raised, "There were four. Four children. You," he lowered a finger, "Me," another dropped, "Neville Longbottom," a third, "And Ronald Weasley," the final was lowered.

A spark of realization coursed through Harry at this. He knew the connection immediately. Those were all the people in his world that had been a direct influence on Voldemort's demise, specifically the destroying of his horcruxes. Though now the real question was how this world's Dark Lord had found the connection to begin with. "You said your parents were killed for disobedience," he began, "They didn't-"

Draco laughed coldly, "Save me? No, never. They were fully prepared to hand me over to the Dark Lord." He snorted, though Harry noticed the flash of pain in his eyes, "Unlike you're mum and dad. Died protecting you. Anything to please their master, that's my parents. Disgusting," he frowned, legs swinging back and forth off the side of the branch. "No, I was saved just in time."

"By who?" Harry flinched at the sharp look that was cast in his direction, immediately backpedaling away from the question, knowing he'd overstepped some sort of boundary. "Sorry, never mind," he waved his hands in front of his chest defensively, watching as Draco merely turned to watching the sun edge slowly over the horizon again.

The blond chewed thoughtfully on his lip, eyes becoming glazed in a way that Harry recognized as being deep in the process of remembering. "I can't tell you," Draco said after an awkward moment of silence between them, "Because I have to protect them, as they did for me." He glanced at the raven haired teen uncertainly, "Sorry."

"I understand," Harry smiled. He moved a bit closer to the other, not missing the way Draco's shoulder hunched with unease. "The werewolves cut your ankle yesterday, right? Let me see it."

**November 5th****, 1981**

"You brought the child here?! Are you entirely mad, Snape?!"

Severus Snape scowled, folding the baby into his robes again protectively, the boy beginning to wail at the yelling around him. "And would you have rather I let him die? The Dark Lord wanted him, so I took him for our side instead. It's what Dumbledore wanted."

"Then Dumbledore is a fool," the other growled. "The boy is a _Malfoy_, Severus. You know as well as I that-"

"You use his name as his guilt?" Snape hissed. "Well then, by the same tokens, should I not charge you equally, Sirius _Black_?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like-" Sirius started, eyes blazing with fury.

Snape sneered, "I shall talk to you how I please." His arms tightened around the sobbing baby, "And you will not cast this child aside because of your damn guilt."

"It is just as much your guilt as it is mine!" Sirius screamed, unable to contain his anger any longer, completely outraged at the accusation. "_You_ told Voldemort the prophecy in the first place!"

"And you negligently handed over your duty as secret keeper to Pettigrew," the other replied coldly. "This is the only child we were able to spare from the Dark Lord's warpath, Sirius. He can not replace Harry, I know. And nor will he make up for the mistakes we both made. But as long as he remains alive the Dark Lord cannot rest."

Sirius's shoulders hunched, "Just because the Longbottoms vanished without a trace doesn't mean that their son is dead as well," he said lowly, eyes on the ground as if he already knew the lies in his words.

Snape watched him a moment, an almost inaudible sigh escaping him, "I know. But we can't do anything for the child or his grandmother now. If the old bat doesn't want to be found, then she won't be."

The other man snarled in frustration and stalked over to him, taking the squirming and crying baby from his arms. "You're holding him all wrong, no wonder he's fussing." He snorted as he caught the strangely astonished look from his companion, "What? I . . . Used to hold Harry like this . . ." His gaze shifted away from Snape again as the child stopped crying, grabbing hold of his thumb with stubby fingers. A soft, hesitant smile lit his face for the briefest of moments, "Harry was smaller," he said quietly, the agony that should have laced his tone suddenly absent. He gripped the tiny hand in return, "What are we going to do with him?"

"Raise him, hide him, bide our time," Snape deadpanned as though it was completely obvious. "There's not much we can do beyond that for the time being. As it is-"

A flurry of noise interrupted their conversation, the sound of fists banging on the door to their small room above The Leaky Cauldron. Sirius frowned, reaching for his wand with one hand while handing the baby back to Severus with the other. Snape took a few steps back towards the wall, wrapping the child in the folds of his midnight cloak once more. A cry became mingled in with the pounding on the door, "Sirius! Sirius! Open up! Please-"

"Remus?" Sirius's eyes widened in alarm, moving to open the door until Snape waved at him to stop. "How do I know you're really Remus?" he asked, though Snape could tell his heart wasn't in the question, and worry barbed his voice.

"Padfoot, open the door!" Remus all but wailed, and Sirius immediately ran over and flung it open. The werewolf stumbled, as he'd been leaning heavily against the structure, but Sirius caught him.

"Remus, you were supposed to be with the Order, guarding the School. What happened?"

Snape clenched his teeth, lowering his gaze to the carpet with a sinking heart, knowing the answer from Remus's anguished gaze and wounds alone. Remus rested his head against Sirius's shoulder, breath coming in short, pained gasps and coughs, and Sirius drew in a startled gasp as he noticed the clothes all but melted against the other's back, his skin still raw red beneath them from heat. "Burned," Lupin coughed, "All of it." He shook a bit as Sirius's hands tightened against his shoulders, "I was patrolling Hogsmeade with Mundungus and it-" He buried his face entirely against Sirius's shoulder, "There were still children in there! I could hear them screaming as it burned! The greenhouses, Hogsmeade, Hagrid's hut, all of it! Gone!"

Sirius trailed a hand though the werewolf's singed hair, making a soothing humming noise in the back of his throat, "Shh . . . It's all right," he whispered, though his eyes clearly said otherwise, "Did anyone get out?"

"Slughorn, Hagrid, Flitwick," Remus slowly rattled off a very small list of teachers, "And a bunch of students." He swallowed, "But not all of them. Anyone who wasn't in the dorms . . . They didn't make it."

"Where did they go?" Snape prompted from across the room, and Remus looked up at him, startled, as though he hadn't noticed his presence before.

"I don't know. Hagrid wouldn't tell me," he whispered, "I was just supposed to come back here and inform the two of you, and any other Order members that weren't there." He shook his head, pressing it to Sirius's shoulder again with a shudder.

Snape eyed him, gaze traveling over his burns and cuts, mentally making out a list of ingredients he would need to brew up something to heal them with. "You did not mention the Headmaster," he murmured after a moment.

Remus flinched, a shudder passing through him that was so bad that Sirius had to hold him steady. "Gone," he said in the eerie silence that had settled between them, "He went back in to get more students . . . And he never came out."

Sirius hissed between his teeth, shaking his head, "We need to get out of here then. Get away. Something. We're probably next on the list. Especially because we have the kid."

"Can't get away," Remus whispered suddenly, closing his eyes, "Can't apparate."

"What?" Sirius's breath caught in surprise at the statement, "What do you mean we can't apparate?"

"That's what happened to a bunch of the Order," Remus went on, "Tried to go get help just outside of the barrier around Hogwarts. Got splinched. Every one of them. Something's wrong with the magic behind it, like the rules have been changed. the Death Eaters could apparate in, but we couldn't apparate out."

Severus muttered a curse under his breath, sweeping across the room, "Sirius, go into Diagon Ally and gather everything on this list," He waved his wand, procuring a small, already made list of potion ingredients and a collapsible cauldron. "And be quick about it." He watched Sirius look over the paper, memorizing it before shifting where he stood, a scruffy black dog taking his place. "We have to move. Now. Meet us in the bar on Tottinham Court Road." He paced over to where Remus was slumped on the floor, waving his wand over the man, "Come, Lupin. We can not have you running about London looking like that." A robe settled over Remus's shoulders, and the werewolf wrapped it over himself with a shiver. "You have one hour, Sirius," he said to the dog that had begun to lick at one of the cuts on Lupin's arm, "If you're not there by then, we will assume your death and move on. Understood?"

The bar was a shabby place, dimly lit with moth eaten tablecloths on the booths. They sat near the back, next to the emergency exit just in case anyone found them there, though the even of that was highly unlikely in muggle London. Remus had taken a turn holding the baby in his arms, the small blond having dozed off on the short trip there. "This isn't going to be easy," he said softly, glancing at the stoic Snape at his side. "We're going to have to be on the move all the time as it is. With the child, even more so."

"Correct," Snape drawled, "But what other choice do we have? The Dark Lord clearly thought he was a threat, or he would not have gone after him at all." His eyes shifted away, "It would have been better if we could have saved all of them . . ."

A small smile flitted across Remus's features for a moment, "I thought you hated children," he teased.

Snape snorted, "Of course I do. I just . . . Never wanted this." "No one would wish for such a thing, Severus," Remus assured, "Unless their heart was completely black." He rocked the baby in his arms as he began to whine, "Have you heard anything about . . ." Snape shook his head, making it unnecessary for him to finish the question. "There's still hope there, then. Sometimes no word is a good thing."

"Or it means that we failed to save anyone but Draco Malfoy," Snape growled, frustration clear in his dark eyes. He looked up as the door to the bar opened, Sirius shuffling in and shaking white flakes from his hair, "We almost left without you."

"I still had ten minutes left!" Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "And I got your stupid supplies, praise my swift and speedy awsomeness," he dropped a burlap bag onto the booth with a loud thump, looking pleased.

"And did you meet any trouble?" Snape inquired, sifting through the items to check that everything was in order before he stood up from his seat.

"If I hadn't been transformed, I'm sure I would have," Sirius muttered, "There were Death Eaters _everywhere_."

Remus stood as well, passing the child into Sirius's waiting arms, "Then we should get out of here before they find us."

"Quite right," Sirius nodded, tucking the baby against his shoulder, "Let's try for someplace outside of muggle and wizard settlement alike for now." He glanced at Snape, "Any ideas?" Snape met his gaze for a moment as he tossed the bag over his shoulder, motioning their small group towards the door, "The Burrow," he said after a pause.

Sirius frowned, "But isn't it . . ." "Burned down. Yes," Remus finished softly. "But there's a lot of wild land still around it. And since the Death Eaters only just took it out, they won't be returning there for quite sometime. It's a decent hiding place for now."

**November 23, 1997**

"Where exactly is the order's base then?" Harry asked from where he was seated sidesaddle style on the back of the broom. He'd allowed Draco to fly it from here on out, not knowing the way. His eyes fell on the blonde's bandaged ankle, relieved that blood had yet to soak through the bindings. And as far as he could tell, it wasn't infected yet either. Which was lucky considering how dirty a werewolf's claws must be.

"Well, it's not my place to tell you, really. Nev's the secret keeper. But . . ." He smirked, "What's it gonna hurt. It's not like you'll be able to get in until Neville let's you anyways. And it'll piss him off if I did tell you," his shoulders shook slightly with muffled laughter at the thought. "Do you know a place called The Burrow?"

Harry's face lit up, "Ron's place? Of course I know it!"

Draco's small smile fell at this, "You knew Ron in your world?"

"Of course!" Harry pretended to sound aghast at the idea of _not_ knowing Ron. "He's my best mate!" He stopped, eyes narrowing in worry, "Don't tell me he's . . ."

The blonde's gaze grew strangely defensive at this again, and he shook his head, "The Burrow you probably knew was burned down the same night you died here." He said no more, looking at the ground far below as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Harry too looked away, trying not to let a wash of anguish roll over him at the words. Ron couldn't be . . . No, Draco had only said that the house had burned down. The people who had lived there were another matter entirely. "How close are we?" he asked, beginning to recognize a few landmarks here and there from his trip there in the flying car when he was twelve.

Draco tilted the broom down as an answer, bringing them to a slow decent towards the ground. Harry's stomach dropped, and he was faintly reminded of how long it had been in his old world since he had found time to ride his old Firebolt. Draco's heals touched the dirt and he slid off the broom, "Through here," he motioned, throwing the thing over his shoulder as Harry jumped down. "It's about a league or so from here, but we have to walk through the first barrier of spells. He smiled once again as he noticed Harry hesitating on the outskirts of the tree line, "Well, come on. We don't have any werewolves guarding the place like You-Know-Who."

The raven haired teen nodded, his words in his dream the night before still echoing in his head. _"Severus . . . I'm scared." _He swallowed, "It is no cowardice to be afraid," he whispered to himself. "I'm not scared of werewolves!" he spoke up suddenly, glaring at Malfoy's back.

"Oh?" Draco smirked over his shoulder, "Then what are you waiting for?" Harry laughed, running to catch up with him, placing his hands behind his head as he slowed to a walk. "You know, in my first year, you're the one who ran away when we went into a forest like this," he remarked.

"Do tell," Draco smiled, "Because it sounds like a right bloody lie. And besides, I thought you said we weren't friends."

"We weren't," Harry huffed, as if the very idea was absurd. "But you were a prick and went and got us _both_ in detention. So we had to go on a romp through the Forbidden Forest as a punishment."

"Well it's no wonder I ran then. Everyone knows that place is crawling with all sorts of nastiness. Werewolves being the least of your worries," Draco frowned. "So what happened?"

"We saw a unicorn getting it's blood sucked out by Vol- er, You-Know-Who, and you ran away screaming like a little girl," Harry chuckled.

"Then I was the smart one," Draco scowled, "What kind of idiot stands there gawking at the Dark Lord anyways?" He grinned as Harry merely blinked at him, "Exactly."

"Well at least I had enough guts to face him," Harry muttered, tripping on a root that suddenly rose up out of the ground.

"Willow roots, watch it," Draco warned, glancing back to see the other had fallen flat on his face. He rolled his eyes, "Are you _sure_ you defeated the Dark Lord wherever you came from? Because you're making that harder and harder to believe."

"And you're starting to look more and more like the git I know," Harry said into the ground, groaning as he heaved himself to his feet. He tried to brush off his already filthy pants, to little avail, muttering something under his breath.

"Hurry up then," Malfoy frowned, "or I'll leave you behind for the Watch to find. And they're not so nice."

"Well that is indeed a threat," Harry deadpanned, "If you're what this place considers _nice_."

"I'm what this place considers bloody sexy," Draco grinned, "Just in case you wanted to know. Now can we keep moving, or are you going to snog the ground again?"

"Oh shut up," Harry grumbled, finding that once again he had to run to catch up. They continued on through the forest, Draco always obnoxiously farther ahead than Harry was comfortable with. Though it was to be expected, really. The way the blond navigated the thin paths through the trees and undergrowth clearly said that he knew where he was going and how to get there. Harry was just fumbling along behind him.

So he was entirely surprised to find that Draco suddenly stopped to wait for him, extending a hand behind him, "Come on, first barrier is just ahead. We have to cross it together."

Hesitantly, Harry took the hand that was offered, a memory lingering at the edges of his mind. _"I can help you there."_ He wondered what would have happened if he had taken Draco's hand back in first year. Would he have been able to change the Slytherin, or would he himself have turned as dark as Malfoy had been. The thought made him shudder.

He could clearly feel the magic as they passed through it, faintly recognizing spells similar to the ones Hermione used to cast around their camps in seventh year. "You said this was the first barrier?" he asked, the hair on his neck prickling with sudden unease.

"Yeah. But whether or not we'll be able to pass through the next one depends on-" He was cut short as a spell suddenly hit a tree just over his shoulder, making him jump. "Okay, what nincompoop with terrible eyesight is on the Watch today?!" He yelled as a group of cloaked figures emerged from the trees ahead, wands raised.

Harry slid in a bit behind the taller teen, wary of the newcomers. They were garbed too similarly to Death Eaters for his liking. "Sorry Draco," one figure muttered apologetically.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Usually you lot can see me coming a mile away," he snorted. "And Seamus, I swear to god if you do that again, you're dead."

Seamus Finigan threw his hood off with a bark of laughter, "But you dyed your hair! I'm used to seeing the pale bleach-blond, not this," he gestured to the other absentmindedly, "And look, you're totally filthy too."

"You just motioned to all of me," Draco frowned. "And I needed to be at least a little disguised, you git. I was tramping through bloody muggle London after all. Death Eater playground, that. Almost got eaten by dementors and werewolves on the same night." He glanced over his shoulder at Harry, who had perked up as soon as Seamus had revealed himself, recognition in his eyes. "Right, off with the hoods you lot, you're freaking out the new recruit."

"I'm not _freaking out_," Harry muttered, though his eyes lingered on Draco's wand, just in case he had to grab it and make a hasty retreat. There were four of them, Seamus included. The other three began a series of questions directed at them as they drew off their hoods. Zacharias Smith, Katie Bell, and . . . Harry's breath caught as the last person slowly let their hood fall to their shoulders, complete and utter shock lacing through him and making him fall to his knees.

There was a worried cry from Draco at this, and the Watch rushed over to help as he kneeled down beside Harry. The person Harry was so startled to see crouched down in front of him, light gray eyes wandering over his features curiously. "Bloody hell, this kid looks like those old pictures of James, Draco," he said in awe, "Just who is this?" He reached out a hand towards Harry's scar, blazing red against his suddenly paled skin. "What's this?"

Draco slapped his hand away defensively, noting the way Harry had become frozen to the spot, "Get back, you wanker. Can't you see that something about you has set him off?" He turned back to Harry, "Hey, Potter. Snap out of it." His eyes went back to the Watcher again, "I said back off, Cedric!"

Cedric Digory rolled his eyes, "I'm still at a higher post than you, Draco. So shut it." Though he moved back a pace, still crouching not far from the two of them. "So, who is he exactly then? You called him _Potter _just now."

"Yeah, he says he's-"

"You're really Cedric then," Harry suddenly interrupted, still in shock. "You look . . . Older than I remember . . ."

"I'm twenty this year," Cedric smiled. "Though I don't believe we've ever met."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Dun dun duuuuuhhhnn . . . The sudden twists are revealed! Argh, Draco's life is really hard to describe. Ack. We'll see a lot more of his past later tho. Hmm . . . And as to how the Voldemort of this world knew who to kill as children? We'll get to that later. Don't worry. Same for what became of Snape, Sirius, and Remus, as well as what exactly went down at the Burrow 16 years ago. Let's just say that Draco's hiding a lot of secrets.

Anywho, about the opening part, I've always thought that Sev was Harry's ultimate guardian. So I plan to use him and his lovely sarcasm to give Harry advice throughout the fic. And now we know that some things end up a little bit better in this world, with the introduction of the AU Cedric. He'll have a major role to play in this too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Falling Through Worlds: What Used To Be**

Scorpius had not slept all night. Instead, he had merely feigned the much needed action, laying on his side with Albus curled against his chest, forced to sleep from the calming draught Madame Pomfrey had given him the night before. The sun was just starting to peek in through curtained windows on the other side of the room, illuminating the bed across from where they lay, and the people surrounding it. Ginny was half asleep, if not fully, her head on the side of the bed, her hands clutching one of Harry's limp ones like a lifeline. Headmistress McGonagall was standing a few feet beyond, talking in low whispers with Madame Pomfrey, and Scorpius was not too interested in their quite banter. Two beds away, a stack of books was spread out over an unused mattress, a small powwow of sorts crouched around it.

As per usual when things went wrong, Hermione had her nose buried in one book, another balanced rather precariously on her lap. She turned the pages slowly, eyes skimming over words written out in runes, and old English. Draco had taken up a spot on the other side of the bed, his back to the metal barred headboard, and a tome on his knees. Every once in awhile, he would flick his wand lazily in the air, a list of ingredients spelling themselves out in front of him before he would wave them away with a frustrated sigh. Neville Longbottom had arrived a few hours ago when he'd delivered the salve, having been out in the Forbidden forest looking for a rare something or another while the Quiditch match had been going on. An old, rather musty book was in his hands, and he flipped the pages only once every few minutes, mouth moving with mumbled words as his eyes drooped with exhaustion. Ron was standing near the window to the left of the bed, his gaze trained on the foggy morning outside, arms crossed and wand in hand. Now and then, he would peer at the words over Draco's shoulder, pretending to be interested in the books contents while he whispered something to the blond that Scorpius couldn't quite catch, and every time Draco would shake his head in response.

The Gryffindor turned his eyes away after a moment of watching them, resting his chin against Albus's dark hair with an inaudible sigh. He could see how utterly lost they were, just from their body movements and hesitant looks at the unconscious _Boy-Who-Lived_. McGonagall's words to Pomfrey betrayed the wish that that there could have been someone else here, who would have had all the right answers when she had none. But the former headmaster was gone, and she kept her gaze trained on the floor. His fathers eyes clearly whispered, _If only _he _were here_, his hands shaking slightly against the bindings on the potions book he held. Scorpius didn't know who _he _was, but he could guess. After all, there was only one person who could have held more knowledge on the subject than his father Draco Malfoy.

The next words that were spoken were clear enough for the whole room to hear, "Whatever happened to the book?" Draco asked, closing the one he was holding with a glance at Hermione.

She looked up at him in confusion for a moment, tilting her head to the side, "Which book?"

"Professor Snape's," the blond went on, "The one Harry carried around like the bible in sixth year."

"Burned, I suspect," Ron muttered near the window, keeping his eyes on the world outside it. "Harry never went back for it after you and that git left in sixth year. So it must have burned in the fiend fire."

Draco frowned, apparently displeased with the answer, "Don't say that like it's my fault," he said after a moment, eyes narrowed at the redhead.

Ron whirled on him with a blazing look, "_Who_ fixed the cabinet? _Who_ let the Death Eaters in here?_ Who_ disarmed Dumbledore?"

"Ron!" Hermione started, dropping her book to try and halt an impending fight.

"I didn't have a choice and you know it!" Draco hissed, hands tightening on the closed book in his hands, "And as I recall, my disarming saved all of your fucking lives!"

"Draco-" Hermione tried to plead with him instead.

"Maybe we didn't need saving!" Ron snapped, grabbing hold of the front of Draco's robes and hauling the former Slytherin to his feet so that they were eye to eye.

"Then you're a fool," the blond said lowly. "Even now, you're trying to just put all your hopes on the idea that Potter might just snap out of it on his own, aren't you. Did you ever think that maybe it was time we tried to save him, instead of him always saving us?"

"Don't you dare-"

"Even when you said you were there to support him, I didn't see any of you standing at his side when he faced that snake," Draco went on.

"Neither were you," Ron growled.

"No," the blond admitted, "And I never really wanted to be. But at least I didn't lean on him so much that I left my life in his hands. That's too much for anyone to bear."

"What are you saying?" Ron asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I'm saying that unless we can find out what hell is wrong with him, he's going to die," Draco hissed. "And we can't keep pretending that this time, he'll pull through on his own. We don't have Dumbledore to help us anymore. We don't have Snape watching him out of the corner of his eyes and making sure he lives anymore. _We're_ the adults now. We have to save him." A small sneer flitted across his face, "Or are you too scared to try being a hero, Weasel."

Ron let go of the other's robes, letting him fall back onto the bed again with an annoyed snort, "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I doubt we'll find the book," Draco smirked, "But I bet we can find something else. Why don't we see how much of the Room of Requirement actually survived the fire, hmm?"

"Hey, he's not lookin' too good all of a sudden," Cedric said, casting a glance at Draco as Harry's face grew flushed, "Better back up, he's gonna-" It was too late, and Harry keeled over onto hands and knees, throwing up what little was in his stomach, most of which going on the ground and Draco's pants. The blond gagged, clearly disgusted, though he didn't move, and simply caught Harry as he swayed dangerously.

"Well," Draco said slowly, "While that was completely unpleasant, we still have a half hours walk ahead of us. And I don't think he can do any walking after that." He pointed his wand at his soiled trousers, beginning to siphon the stuff off, "Someone take this broom so I can-"

"I've got him," Cedric smiled, standing up and lifting Harry up onto his back. He smirked at the dirty look Draco cast him in response, "Let's go. Walk and talk, Draco. You have some explaining to do."

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness as he was carried, his vision swimming. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt sick, but it was bad. He hadn't felt like this since Voldemort had been alive back in his world and was freely running around killing innocent people. Maybe that was it. Maybe his body was finally starting to react to the tie between himself and the Dark Lord again. The thought made him want to be sick all over again.

"You're saying that he's not just _Harry Potter_ then, that he's _Harry Potter _from _another world_?" Seamus spoke up, startling Harry out of his thoughts at the mention of his name. "Have you gone completely loony, Malfoy?"

"He certainly does look like James," Katie said softly, and Harry could feel her eyes on him. "And his eyes are exactly like Seve-"

"Hush!" Draco interrupted her, "Yes, I know, you don't need to go around blabbing Order secrets, thank you."

"I believe it," Cedric said, shifting Harry's weight on his shoulders a bit as he felt the younger teen tense at his voice. "He looked at us as if he'd seen us before. There was definite recognition in his gaze."

"As there would be in any Death Eater foolish enough to try a trick like this," Seamus huffed. "Stupid gits are shit at concealing emotions."

"But he looked at Ced as though he'd seen a ghost," Zacharias pointed out after a moment. "That definitely says something. I wonder, if the story is true that is, if something happened to Cedric wherever he's from."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Draco drawled, reaching over to push dark raven locks from Harry's eyes to reveal the scar, "He's said a lot of strange things so far that would make it plausible. Like the fact that he attended Hogwarts."

This set off a stream of new, excited questions.

"Hogwarts? Did they have quiditch there? I've always wanted to play," Katie exclaimed, clapping her hands together, delighted at the thought.

"Who taught there? I bet the teachers were wankers," Seamus muttered.

"I bet you were a wanker," Zacharias snorted. "I want to know what Hogsmeade was like."

"I wonder what the prefects were like. Pad told us they were gits out for your blood," Cedric said.

At this, Harry laughed, the sound all but muffled between Cedric's shoulder blades. They looked at him at this, surprised by the sudden mood change. "You were a prefect, Cedric," he said, trying to stifle his small hiccups of laughter.

"Oh ho!" Draco grinned, "Sounds like the perfect prat sorta job for you, Ced!"

"You were a prefect too, Draco," Harry informed with a smirk, causing the rest of the group to laugh as well.

"Tell us more, please," Katie begged.

Harry smiled at her, waving memories of a cursed necklace and her screams from his mind, "You were Gryffindor Chaser," he said after a moment of thought. "And a damn good one at that."

"What about me?" Seamus asked, pointing to himself.

"Well, you weren't a prefect or on the quiditch team," Harry laughed as Seamus puffed out his chest, apparently fine with that, "But you were the royal screw up of Gryffindor. Something was _always_ exploding on you. Whether it was a potion in Snape's class, or one of the twin's jokes gone wrong. It never failed. You burned your eyebrows off in first year."

Zacharias chuckled, "He did that last year here, leaning to close to the fire." He smiled, something almost foreign to Harry's eyes, "And me?" "Hufflepuff. The house of the badger," Harry replied, "And you were quite a prat yourself too. Thought you were the greatest thing since the Quick Quotes Quill. But you were brave, and that's what mattered."

"What about me, Harry?" Cedric asked, making the raven haired teen start slightly, forgetting who exactly was carrying him.

Draco did not fail to notice the haunted look that passed through Harry's eyes just before he spoke, "You were one of the most courageous people I ever had the privilege of meeting," he said after a moment of thought. "That was something I admired in you. Oh, and," he smiled suddenly, "I know for a fact that you took a four hour long bubble bath at one point in your seventh year."

The group guffawed with laughter at this, Seamus clutching his sides as he gasped for breath between snickers. Draco however merely looked away, not asking the questions that prickled the back of his mind. "What house was he in," he said suddenly, realizing Harry had forgotten to mention it.

"Hufflepuff," Harry murmured, his head resting against Cedric's back again as another bout of exhaustion caught up to him, and he realized that his mouth tasted absolutely disgusting.

Draco scuffed his feet on the ground at the reply. He didn't understand it, so far he was the only one who had been Slytherin in Harry's world. And that unnerved him, especially how Harry had said it the night before. As if the name of the house was some sort of poison. "Come on then, no more talking. We're getting close to the hideout."

The trees had begun to thin out, unevenly placed and significantly shorter than they ones of the thick forest behind them. Harry glanced around for a moment before letting his eyelids droop once more, pressing his face between Cedric's shoulder blades again. The Order was the last thing on his mind at the moment. Even if things seemed to be in complete chaos in this world, some things were completely wonderful. Cedric was alive. He'd never died because he'd been too noble, too trusting. He had never taken Harry's hand back in the maze in the final task. He had never died.

"_Kill the spare . . ."_

He shuddered, gasping at the memory that had been his greatest guilt since his fourth year. More so than Sirius, or Remus, or Fred. Cedric had died because he'd trusted Harry too much. And he'd always blamed himself for his death. He blinked as Cedric's arms around his legs tightened their hold, the older man glancing over his shoulder at the raven haired teen with a reassuring smile. And Harry smiled back, a sort of peace settling over him at the motion. He'd always wondered what Cedric would have looked like if he'd had the chance to grow into a man. Now he knew. His autumn brown hair was just a little bit longer, his gray eyes just a little darker from the practice of war, his arms and legs a little thicker from strenuous training and battle, his skin a little more scarred than it should have been for someone so young.

At that moment, Draco let out a rather unmanly shriek as something suddenly dropped down from a tree right onto him, making him tumble head over heals to the ground, the cry cut short as his breath rushed out of him on impact. Harry jolted, trying to see what had happened, waving away the flicker of worry that was certainly _not_ for Malfoy's sake. The blond lay sprawled out on his back with a very annoyed looking, brunette teen sitting on his chest, arms crossed.

"Enemies could sneak up on you even after the first barrier, Malfoy," the newcomer chided sternly, "What have I told you about that? I'm able to surprise you _every time_! If I were a Death Eater you'd be dead rather than-"

"Squashed," Draco gasped, finishing the sentence for him, trying to shove him off though the other remained stubbornly rooted to his position on the blonde's chest and stomach.

Cedric laughed, shaking his head, "Draco, you're the only one that Nev can still get the jump on anymore. You know that, right?"

"Shut up!" Malfoy hissed, eyes narrowing.

Harry tapped on Cedric's shoulder, signaling that he could walk now, though he wasn't entirely sure. But he had to get a good look at this world's Neville Longbottom for himself. Cedric crouched down, allowing him to climb off his back. He grabbed Harry's arm however as he swayed a bit, still feeling terribly lightheaded with his now empty stomach. "Draco, introduce the guest," Cedric prompted, motioning to Harry with raised eyebrows.

Neville turned, eyeing the bespectacled teen curiously, "And who have we here? Another Muggle-born? No . . ." He stood, allowing Draco to scramble to his feet with a groan, "You look like James. In that old picture of the Order from before things went south."

"He's Harry Potter," Draco said once he'd regained his breath, trying to shake the dirt from his hair with a frown.

"Now that's a new one," Neville remarked slowly, circling him with a contemplating expression, though he had yet to draw his wand.

Harry too looked him over, noting the minute details that set him apart from the Neville he knew. More scars than he was sure even _he _had, deeper ones too, though his face remained mostly unmarked. A glint in his eyes that reminded Harry of when he had pulled the Gryffindor sword from the sorting hat the night that Voldemort had finally been vanquished. The longer hair he'd sported in his fourth year, lean muscled appearance that had never been in his Neville, ever. This was a wizard who had killed to save his friends. And he couldn't help but smile as he noticed some odd colored flower petals stuck in the folds of his robes. "You still love plants, don't you," he couldn't help but say.

"Says he's from an alternate world," Draco muttered as Neville looked surprised at the sudden remark. "And he knew us there. That's how he knows some things no one should."

Neville looked intrigued, "Let's test that theory," he said after a moment, his gaze growing distant as he thought. "What was Albus Dumbledore's brother named?"

"Aberforth," Harry said easily.

A smile, "Very good. Who was the secret keeper to the Potters just before they died?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

His smile grew, "For a possible Death Eater, you're well informed. But here's one you won't get." A smirk, "What am I afraid of?"

"Severus Snape," Harry grinned, "I know so because that's what the boggart turned into when Professor Lupin had you attack it. And then you made the thing wear your grandmothers horrid clothes with that stuffed vulture on the hat."

Neville's eyes widened, a smirk playing on his lips, "Well, I can't say for certain since you might be skilled at legimens, or something. But until Luna can take a look out you, I'll believe you."

"Luna?" Harry echoed, blinking in surprise.

The taller teen waved a hand absently, "Yeah, she's on a mission right now, but she should be back tonight, if all goes well." There was a faint, worried glimmer in his eyes as he said this, and Harry didn't fail to catch it. "Come, I'll show you the base," Neville said after a moment, noticing Harry's gaze on him.

A girl of no more than seventeen sat in a bench outside of her very normal, simple muggle school. Though, being a muggle herself, she wouldn't have called it thus. To her it was simply school. The place she came every morning to do menial learning that hardly challenged her intellect and where she had to sit next to gorilla-like idiots like Thomas Norskivitch. With a sigh she turned a page in the tome of a book she was reading, brushing stray curly brown hair from her eyes.

A shadow fell over her and she tried to ignore it, to little avail since it was being entirely annoying by blocking the sunlight she needed to continue reading. She didn't want to strain her eyes. After all, her parents were dentists, not optometrists. And she really didn't think glasses would look very good on her at all. So instead she sat up, straightening her shoulders and turning to glare at the offender who was ruining her reading time.

And as she had suspected, it was the hulking Thomas Norskivitch. Someone really needed to convince that kid to try out for some sort of sport, in her opinion, because the fact that he chose to vent his anger out on her every day was getting rather old. "What do you want, Thomas?" she asked, trying to sound polite but knowing her tone said otherwise.

"What are you reading there, bookworm?" Thomas sneered, "The dictionary?"

"I would if I hadn't already read it," she replied smoothly, "This is _Ulysses_."

"Sounds like a disease," Thomas snorted, the sound of his laughter bringing around some more of his towering companions.

She groaned inwardly as she was suddenly surrounded, "Well you would know very well that Ulysses is nothing close to a disease if you knew even the tiniest bit about history," she smirked.

Thomas growled at the remark, "Not everyone chooses to be a know-it-all, bookworm. And anyways, everyone knows that know-it-all's like you are virgins for life. And what's the fun in that?" This sent up a loud round of barking laughter from the gathered crowd. The girl frowned.

"Better to be a virgin than covered in STD's, Thomas," she said evenly, blushing furiously. Her dangerous gaze turned to one of his companions, "I heard some gossip about you the other day, Wallace. What was it again now? Oh yeah, that you had been down into the Red Light and gotten crabs," she smiled coldly.

The group went silent, the offended Wallace reddening and casting a glare at Thomas. The ring leader nodded, "Right then, let's make you the first bookworm that's not virgin for life then, shall we?"

She had little time to scream as one of the boys clapped a hand over her mouth, another grabbing her around the waist as they hauled her off between them to the back of the school. She was thrown to the ground, dust and dried grass kicked up into the air upon her impact. One hulking figure pinned her wrists above her head, a second keeping a dirty hand over her mouth. She kicked and flailed anyways, pure panic rising in her. It was hard to breath with that massive hand over her mouth, and she could feel her cheeks tingeing crimson as her mind started to swim. She managed to score a blow to one of the thug's chest, sending him flying onto his arse a few feet away. Thomas yelled for her legs to pinned as well after that.

She screamed as uniform skirt was pushed up, struggling harder than ever and trying to bite the hand over her mouth, to little avail. So she screamed in her mind instead. _Think! You have to do something or they'll- Oh! I don't even want to think about that!_ She clenched her fingers to her palms in the grip they were held in, twisting so that she was able to suddenly release the fists and her hands hit those restraining her. To her utter surprise, the boy holding her wrists jerked back with a pained cry.

Everything stopped, and she tilted her head just enough to see the teen that had previously held a death grip on her wrists having some sort of _fit_ on the ground. His body began to spasm and twitch in a way that the girl faintly recognized as the reaction to severe electrocution. But that hardly mattered now. Her hands were free. She could fight back.

She went for the lug covering her mouth first, palms hitting his face dead on. She was only slightly startled as he too keeled over, shuddering and jerking on the ground. The other's began to panic, Thomas tripping as they tried to scatter, clearly afraid now that two of their comrades had fallen without explanation at her touch. She whirled on a third, too slow to get away, foolish enough to think that their attempted gangbang was still in motion. Her hands connected with his chest and he stumbled backwards, mouth open as he fell, limbs shaking.

Thomas was the last, his eyes wild with fear as he approached him. "What the hell are you?" he screamed as she approached, trying to scramble backwards and away only to fall back as she slapped him across the face, watching coldly as he too fell to flop like a fish out of water on the ground.

"Someone you don't want to mess with," she hissed. There was an eerie moment of silence that settled around the empty school yard, the four boys she had injured lying motionless around her. Slowly, she raised her hands to her face, hesitantly touching her cheek as if she expected something to happen. Nothing did, and she brushed the dirt off her skirt with a frown.

Footsteps alerted her a moment later that she wasn't alone, and she whirled as a tall, gangly dark skinned boy nearly barreled into her, the physical education teacher not far behind him. "Are you all right? I saw them drag you off and I got Mr. Friesen but-" he stopped short as he noticed the four boys spread-eagled on the ground. "Bloody hell . . ."

"What happened here?" the teacher asked, walking between the boys and checking for pulses, though his face did not betray whether or not he felt any. "Looks like they had some sort of epileptic fit or something."

She spoke up then, a tinge of fear lacing though her at the thought of being charged as the one who had caused their injuries, "They did, sir. I don't know what came over them. Maybe something was bad in the macaroni today."

The teacher nodded, heading back towards the school in a rush, "Both of you stay here, I have to go call the hospital to come get them. Luckily their just unconscious for now it seems." He dashed off, leaving them alone amidst the strangely still bodies of the four bullies.

"You did it, didn't you?" the boy said suddenly, startling her.

"No, I-" she tried to deny it, though his sharp gaze cut her off.

"Don't lie. Is this the first time you've done something like that, something you couldn't explain?" he prompted, his gaze truly curious.

"Y-yes," she said honestly, shoulders hunching as if she was afraid he was going to laugh at her, or tease her somehow. Maybe something even worse. It was bad enough she was already the freak of the school, she didn't need this as well.

And he did laugh, though it was one of relief, "Bloody hell, that's awesome! I've been waiting so long for someone else to be able to do things like that! I thought I was the only one!" He smiled at her confused look, reaching for a small stick on the ground, "Here, watch."

She watched, fascinated as the tiny twig burst into splinters before her eyes, "H-how did you do that?"

"Been practicing," he grinned. "But don't you think it's weird? Strange that we can do stuff like this? It's almost like . . ." He paused, uncertainty in his eyes.

"Magic," she finished for him, eyes widening. "But that's absurd! There's no such thing as magic!"

"Then what was that just now?" he motioned to the thugs around them, Wallace still twitching now and then.

"Coincidence," she replied, though her eyes told otherwise.

"Magic," he whispered. "Come one, aren't you just a little bit curious about what else we might be able to do?" He laughed as she shook her head swiftly, "Liar. Admit you are. After all, you're the brightest in our year. Wouldn't it be wonderful to find that there was this whole spring of knowledge you'd never even heard of before?" He flicked his fingers, as though he might be able to spark fire from them, though nothing happened, "It's magic, Hermione," he said as he held out her book to her, almost forgetting that he'd picked it up off the ground.

A small, hesitant smile flickered across her face, "That's a ridiculous idea, Dean. But I like it."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

What to say about this chapter . . . Well, you get a proper introduction to three key characters in the AU, that's for sure. And the quest to reunite soul and body begins in the other world too. Neville is quite a bit different in this world, to say the least. But since the prophecy could have been about him, he's always had the potential. And Cedric, well, for now he's the much needed comfort for Harry in this world he isn't familiar with. And were you surprised by Hermione? Well, if the world went to shit, they certainly wouldn't have a way to find the muggle-borns, now would they. So Dean and Hermione have had to fend for themselves, more or less. New chapter soon hopefully. :3 review and it comes faster.


	5. Chapter 5

**Falling Through Worlds: Through the Glass**

The base had certainly not been what Harry had expected it to be. In the back of his mind he had pictured something along the lines of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. So he was wholly surprised to find that the place they led him to at first seemed to just be an empty clearing amidst the trees. Neville had walked out to the center of it, standing stock still for a moment before he tapped his foot on the ground, the earth bellow echoing with a hollow sounding, very out of place noise. A boy Harry didn't recognize had pushed up the trapdoor, eyeing the group before he moved out of the way and allowed them in. Neville went in last, performing a sealing spell on the ground and the concealed door from below as a finishing touch. The place where the Burrow had once stood had literally become it's namesake, a burrow.

Harry stood in the underground chamber, gazing around at the surroundings that looked uncannily like Gryffindor tower. A fireplace and some old musty couches and tables strewn out in front of it, stairs that led down rather than up to where he could only assume sleeping quarters were, rooms off to the side that smelled of medicine and potions and old books and food. "It's brilliant," he said in awe, marveling at how perfectly hidden it was. "How do you conceal the smoke from the fire?"

Zacharias grinned, "That was my idea. It's a transfiguration barrier in the chimney. It leads out to a knothole in a tree about a mile from here, and turns the smoke into air."

"Transfiguration barrier?" Harry echoed, quizzical.

"A combination of a shield spell and transfiguration spell," Neville said absently, taking off his robe and flopping down on the nearest sofa, "Only air can pass through it. It has to be renewed every couple of weeks though, or it wears out." He glanced up at Harry's confused look, "It's Magical Fusion."

"Oh," Harry said in recognition. That was the subject Hermione had been working with in his own world, a new theory where he had come from. It was strange how things didn't quite match up from world to world.

Neville noticed his far off gaze and patted the cushion beside him, "Tell me more about your world."

Obediently, Harry went around and sat beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest, "There's not a whole lot to tell," he said with a sidelong glance at the other. "I mean, we only just discovered the existence of such things ourselves where I'm from."

"And how did that come about?" Neville, surprisingly, seemed genuinely intrigued by the concept.

The couch sunk down on Harry's other side as Cedric decided to listen in as well. Harry smiled at him, tensing a bit, "There's a world similar to both yours and mine where muggles and wizards intermingle, led by a man called Chrestomanci. This Chrestomanci person can travel through worlds, and came upon ours a couple of years ago." He shrugged, not very familiar with the subject himself. "Apparently, everything that ever happens, every choice ever made, has one of two answers. And every time something is decided, the worlds split. So, a world where I died, and a world where I lived, for example. Does that make any sense?"

"It's like the _what if_ sorta thing, isn't it," Cedric spoke up. "Every time there's a what if, there's a split in the worlds."

"Something like that," Harry smiled.

Neville reclined back where he sat, a curious spark in his eyes, "So what was I like where you're from then?" Harry laughed softly, the look reminding him of his own world's Neville more than just a little, "You were a Gryffindor at Hogwarts, even though at first you didn't seem to have enough courage to fulfill your place there. You loved plants, and hated fighting. But if one of your friends was in danger, you could deliver quite a heavy blow."

"Sounds exactly like him," Seamus spoke up, flinging himself over the back of the couch to sit at Neville's other side. "Knows his crap but only fights when it's absolutely necessary."

"Don't you have double Watch shift today?" Neville frowned at him, making Seamus scowl. "Take Angelina and Draco with you, that should be enough."

Draco, who had been talking with the guard near the trapdoor turned with an indignant look at Neville, "I _just_ got back you bloody twit! Can't I have a bath or something before I go out?"

"You'll only get dirty again," Neville smiled innocently, "And we're short handed until Luna's group gets back. Deal with it." He waved the angry blond away with a hand.

"Make Cedric go then!" Draco snapped, not about to be outdone by any means.

"Cedric worked the night shift and the day shift for two days straight," Neville said smoothly. "Without a nap in between. Now stop whining and get out there before I _make_ you." Apparently, this was a strangely effective threat, as Draco came over and hauled Seamus to his feet, dragging him out the door with a muttered curse, Angelina appearing out of one of the side rooms to follow without a word.

Harry watched them go with tired eyes, glancing at Cedric, "Two days without sleep?" he asked, not quite believing it.

Cedric shrugged, though Harry could clearly see the exhaustion on his face now, "It's normal around here when we have large groups out on a mission. Whoever is left has to work overtime to make sure the base is secure. Though sending Draco out right after he's been gone for a month was a little harsh, Nev," he said after a moment's thought.

"He needs to keep on his toes," Neville replied calmly, "And besides, I want to be able to talk to Harry without him glaring daggers at my back the whole time."

"Why would he do that?" Harry blinked at the grins that were suddenly directed at him from both sides.

"Draco's a prick, he doesn't have many friends that he himself will actually count as friends," Cedric said, a wide smile still on his face, "Nev and I and almost everyone else here are only acquaintances in his eyes, you could say. But it's seems you've impressed him somehow, because he's been strangely defensive of you all day. He's usually only like that with a few other people."

"So tell us, how exactly you were fortunate enough to run into each other?" Neville smirked, settling into a more comfortable position and waving his wand over the table, a tray of tea and biscuits appearing.

"Whoa . . ." Harry was impressed, and he grabbed a biscuit and took a bite just to make sure it was real. "How'd you do that?"

"Summoning spell from the kitchens," Neville yawned, as though it were simple. "It's not like you can just make food appear out of thin air, you know."

Harry felt as though one of the greatest mysteries in his life had been solved, having always wondered how Dumbledore had managed to perform just such a trick. "You have _got_ to teach me how to do that sometime," he laughed. "I'm not really sure where to start about how I came here," he began after a moment of thought, "Though Malfoy and I did _literally_ run into each other, actually . . ."

Draco had brought the broom with him to the Watch shift, and was running his hands along it curiously as he stood with his back against a broad oak near the barrier. Seamus watched him from the branches above, his feet dangling over the edge and swinging childishly back and forth through the air. "You've been carrying that silly thing around since you came back, Malfoy," the Irish boy said after a few minutes of awkward silence between them, "why?"

"None of your business, Finnegan," Malfoy snapped, gripping the broom protectively and narrowing gray eyes.

"It's a muggle broom, it can't fly," Seamus snorted, pretending, though very poorly, to be uninterested in the item.

"It did for me," Draco muttered, turning his gaze out to the forest. "Come on, we've spent enough time in this spot, let's move on."

Seamus rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, jumping down from his perch and following the blond, his feet scuffing at the ground. "You really think he's who he says he is?" he whispered, watching Draco's back nervously.

"Yes," Draco didn't have to ask who he was talking about.

The other shook his head, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants, "You hardly ever trust anyone, so suddenly trusting a total stranger . . . It's a little hard for me to believe, you know?" He shrugged, "I guess it's just me though, Ced seems pretty attached to him already too. I don't get it."

"Angelina's near the south edge, right?" Draco asked, ignoring the other's uneasy rant.

"Draco . . ."

The blond glanced over his shoulder at him, his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth, "I don't know why, okay? It's just . . ." He looked away again, continuing on through the trees, "As soon as he appeared, it felt like everything in this fucked up world had righted itself again. And I started to _hope_ . . . You know how long it's been since I had any hope that we'd all make it through this? Years, Seamus. It was like a huge chunk of me had been returned to it's rightful place. I can't help but trust him."

"But that's what you said about-"

"I know that's what I said! It's almost the same sort of feeling!" Draco hissed, facing him again, "Don't you sometimes think about what it would have been like if the Dark Lord was gone? I do, and you know what? It's a whole lot better than this shitty life we have now! And with Ron, and with Harry, it's the same. I can almost see what it would have been like if things had turned out different." He drew off, breathing uneven and forced, shoulders shaking with rage.

Seamus's eyebrows furrowed together, "Ron's coming back-"

"Yeah, after being gone for six months longer than he was supposed to be," Draco snapped, eyes closing with grief. "Don't lie to me, Seamus. I'm not an idiot," he whispered.

"You haven't told Harry, have you," it was not a question, it was a statement of a fact.

"I have no reason to. He'll find out soon enough," the blonde muttered, whirling around again and stomping a path through the undergrowth. "Come on, Angelina's gonna get mad if we're late."

The shorter teen followed at his own pace, kicking the dirt with his toe as he went. Neville was lying when he said that Draco was untrusting and uncaring, and had little friends. They'd all been his friends at one point . . . He shook his head, watching the blonde's receding figure with a sigh. At least, that had been the case until Ron had vanished. Now he was as touchy and distant as when Snape had first brought him here six years ago. He stumbled to catch up to him, grabbing hold of the back of Draco's cloak when he did, "Don't be a prat, okay?" Seamus smiled, "It makes your face all ugly."

Draco rolled his eyes, and allowed himself a small smirk, "Oh, anything but that. I might end up looking like you then, hmm?"

"Bastard."

"Screw up," Draco sneered, tapping the top of his companion's head with the butt of the broom.

"Stop fighting," Angelina interrupted, making Draco jump as she emerged from behind a nearby tree. "We have to wait for Luna's squad, and fight off anyone that may be following them."

"Yeah yeah," Draco yawned, hand covering his mouth. "But since when has anyone ever gotten the jump on Luna?"

"Too true," Seamus said, backing him up. "So let's just head on back to the base and get some much needed sleep. And in Draco's case, a bath," he waved his hand in front of his face, earning a glare from the blond.

Angelina narrowed her eyes at both of them, "Just shut up and spread out. Or I'll tell Neville what slackers you were and then you'll be on kitchen duty for a month."

"Blimy, anything but Draco's cooking," Seamus gasped in mock horror, darting away as Malfoy lunged for him, held back by Angelina at the last minute. She waited until Seamus has skipped far out of reach to take up watch between some hawthorns before she released him, waving him off in the opposite direction with a frown.

Draco slumped against a towering willow, it's tendril leaves shielding him from view as he slid down into the grass and bracken at it's base with a heavy sigh. The broom was still held tight in his hands, and he ran his fingers along the handle with curiosity. He wanted to fly it again, but didn't want to risk it just yet. And besides, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to have the confidence to do it again after Seamus had nicely brought up what he'd been trying to forget.

"_You sure mope a lot, huh, Ferret," Ron's eyes blazed a determined blue, and he ruffled Draco's hair in that annoying way that ticked the blond off so much. "Don't worry, it's only for a few days, and I've got the twins with me too. Try and get on Neville's good side again so that you can go on a top rank mission too while I'm gone, all right?"_

He hadn't wanted him to go. Maybe because he knew, somewhere deep down, that Ron wouldn't come back. And the thought that he'd failed to stop him from leaving hurt worst of all. Draco sighed, his knees drawing up against his chest and his head falling onto them with a strangled sob. To any outsider, it would have seemed as though Draco didn't care that Ron was gone. The way they fought like cats and dogs all the time, the way they yelled, and threw hexes around making the kitchen blow up more than once in the past year. But Ron was a stubborn, reliable friend. And that was what really mattered in the end. "You were the one who set Nev's pants on fire," he muttered, remembering the redhead's last words before he'd left, "Not me. Git."

The grass just beyond the barrier rustled in the distance, and Draco pushed himself to his feet, peering out into the darkness that had descended while he'd been in his restless daze. He didn't dare light a Lumos spell, in case whatever was out there wasn't a friend. Clearing his throat, he whispered, "Who goes?"

"The wind and the rain and the moon, but never the foes," came the answer, so close he almost jumped out of his skin. There was a small spark of wand light, and Luna materialized out of thin air, shaking her hair as though there was water in it. "Great spell, isn't it?" she asked dreamily, a book clutched in her hand, "It makes you blend in with the things around you, like a chameleon. I found it in here," she tapped the tome with a finger, smiling slightly. "The rest of the group should be coming in a sec, I sensed some wackspurts nearby, so I had them split up. They don't like to go after individual people much, you see."

Draco just stared at her and nodded as if he understood, though in reality he'd just tossed her words up to the normal Luna Lovegood nonsense. He watched as the rest of the group slowly filtered through the barrier, Angelina and Seamus running over once they noticed Luna's sudden appearance. Oliver Wood, Fleur Delacour, Blaise Zabinni, Justin Finch Fletchly, and Ernie Macmillan all sifted in through the gaps in the trees, throwing off similar spells as to what Luna had been concealed with as they did so. Seamus was practically jumping up and down with excitement at the sight of it, "Wicked! You have got to teach us that one!"

Angelina silenced him with a glare, "The mission went well then?"

"As vell as it could be," Fleur said sourly, "with tailin' ze Death Eaters."

"We almost ran into some nargals around where Hogsmeade used to be," Luna said with a smile. Behind her, Justin rolled his eyes.

"The usual," Ernie said, trying to sum it all up. "And we managed to find a few old books in the basement of Florish and Blots."

"They seem to have come in handy," Draco said, watching as Oliver seemed to be having trouble making his hand become visible.

Luna turned to look at her team member at the pun, waving her wand at him briefly before nodding at the Watch, "We should report back then, hmm? I'm sure Neville's worried sick as usual. And it seems . . ." She stared at Draco for a long, very uncomfortable moment, "You've brought someone with you, haven't you." It was hardly a question, and she turned to lead the way back to the Burrow without another word, dark cloak billowing out behind her.

"I'm glad I wasn't with her on a trip that long," the blond muttered under his breath.

"You have no idea," Oliver sighed as he hurried to catch up to her, one of his fingers still refusing to show it's self.

Harry had fallen comfortably asleep after a longer than intended retelling of his story thus far in this world. Neville had stopped him countless times, at the part where he'd repelled the dementors and where he'd made the muggle broom fly. In fact, he'd been forced to repeat both incidents more than a handful of times, the other boy seeming to analyze ever detail of the tale. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure he had finished the story in the end, he just knew that he'd fallen asleep.

For once his consciousness was empty as he slept, the sunlight and grass that were hidden from his sight absent entirely. But after awhile the peaceful darkness changed in a way that made him unsettled. There were whispered, hissing words in his ears that he realized were Parseltongue, and he shivered from head to toe. It was a voice he hadn't heard in twenty-three years in the world he'd come from, and he'd hoped to have forgotten what it sounded like. This did not seem to be the case however. The words were too far away for him to make out directly, and he covered his ears to drown them out, shoulders shaking. _Go away_, he pleaded. _Go away. You're dead. You're dead. I killed you. Go away . . ._

He jolted as a hand touched his arm, forcing him awake. His eyes flickered open, his breath coming in small, frightened gasps, and he realized he was covered in sweat. Harry blinked, trying to slow his racing heartbeat and ragged breathing as he gazed around him. A blanket was draped over him from where he lay on the couch, curled into himself as he tried to calm down. Warm breath was ghosting over the top of his head, and he faintly registered that someone was sleeping beside him, the person who had woken him.

Cedric's chin rested a little above his head, one hand still on Harry's shoulder though his eyes remained closed. "You okay?" he whispered. "You were talking in your sleep. At least . . . It was sorta like talking. It sounded like a snake though."

Harry shuddered, shaking his head, "Nightmare," he said after a moment to steady his breathing, "It's fine."

"Kay," Cedric murmured. He was silent a moment, and Harry let his mind wander, trying to remember when in his story he'd fallen asleep. "You're running a fever. Nev went out to go look for some herb or another to bring it down," the older man went on in the silence that had settled. "Told me to stay and make sure you didn't freeze to death. You were shaking like a leaf while you slept."

"Sorry," Harry whispered, blushing with embarrassment. God, what was wrong with him, getting sick like this so suddenly?

"S'okay . . . I don't mind," Cedric yawned, his hand still lingering on Harry's shoulder, where he'd begun to kneed small, comforting circles. He opened his eyes, watching as Harry tensed slightly as he did so, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance at the question.

"Look at me like that. Like you're looking at a ghost," Cedric muttered, closing his eyes again, fingers stilling against Harry's arm.

Harry chewed on his lip, his heart shuddering with anguish at the words, "Where I'm from, you would be," he whispered almost inaudibly.

Cedric's breath was hot against the top of his head, and it paused for a moment as the words sunk in. "You'll have to tell me about it someday," he said finally, continuing the small circles on Harry's arm.

"What would telling you about your death change?" Harry asked quizzically.

"The haunted look in your eyes," Cedric answered softly.

Harry shook his head again, closing his eyes and tugging the blanket up around himself fully again, feeling chilled. Silence settled between them, and Cedric's breathing evened out enough that Harry mistook it for sleep, until the older suddenly sat up, the ground over their heads echoing with the faint rise and fall of feet. "Draco's back," Cedric grinned, scrambling over the back of the couch to go to the trap door. "Stay here," he said to Harry, making sure he was tucked in to the blanket before he dashed off to heave the door open.

A crowd of people swarmed down through the opening, all of whom Harry recognized even without his glasses on, though he fumbled to find them for a minute, realizing they'd been removed and set on the coffee table in front of the fire place. Neville was among them, and the raven haired teen watched him exchange a hug with Luna before bustling off towards the kitchens, a strange looking plant in hand. Draco was surrounded by Justin, Oliver, Blaise, and Ernie, all of them questioning him amiably on the broom he held in his hands. Fleur was talking in a low voice with Angelina about who got to use the girl's bath first.

Harry jumped as he realized that Luna had taken up a seat on the arm of the couch beside him, and was staring at him with her familiar, dreamy look. "L-Luna-" he started, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"You're Harry Potter then, hmm?" she smiled, reaching out to skim smooth fingers over his forehead, "Quite a fever you've got there. It's got everyone worried you know."

"Everyone?"

"Well, Cedric and Draco mostly. Neville too, he even went out to find something to bring it down in the middle of the night." She gazed at him intently for a moment, her eyes skimming over his scar briefly, "We've been waiting for you, you know."

"Y-You have?"

"Of course. It was prophesized," she stared at her nails absently. "A traveler from another world who would know how to defeat the Dark Lord. I was the one that said it." She smiled at Harry's astonished look, "Neville wouldn't have told you, I suspect. He was the only one to hear it, and I don't remember it myself. But seer blood runs in my family." She drew off, watching him with glazed eyes, "He won't tell you until he's sure he can trust you though. He doesn't want to get his hopes up for nothing after all."

Neville came hurrying out of the kitchen at that moment, a bowl and spoon balanced on a tray. Harry flinched at the sight, already able to see the inevitable downfall of the tray if this world's Neville was even the tiniest bit like his own. But to his immense relief, Luna stood up and took it from him just as Neville's foot hit a conveniently upturned corner of the rug, and the tray was saved while he landed on his face. "Foresight?" he asked with a glance at Luna as she set the tray on the coffee table.

"Habit," she replied smoothly. "Fearless leader or not, Neville is still Neville." She smiled down at the teen in question who was rubbing his nose from his position on the ground, "You had a question for me?"

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, touching the bridge of his nose gingerly as he rose to his feet.

"It shows in your eyes," she nodded, looking at Harry out of the corners of her own. "You wish to know whether or not he is false."

"And is he?"

Harry tensed, sitting up and drawing the blanket tighter around himself. Luna smiled warmly at him in reassurance, "No. His words are true."

Neville sighed with relief, slumping down into the empty cushion beside the raven haired teen, "Thank you." He turned his gaze to Harry with a hesitant, apologetic smile, "Sorry, mate. I couldn't put too much faith in you until I knew for sure." He ran a hand through his hair with a frown, "Our numbers have been dropping like flies. We can't be too careful anymore. I couldn't help but hesitate to trust you entirely."

"No, I would have done the same," Harry assured, picking up the bowl and spoon from the table. "So . . . Is this . . . Um, edible?" His nose wrinkled in suspicion, the stuff wafting up a sour smell.

A hand was suddenly on his forehead, cool fingers lingering there for a moment before their owner spoke, "Well, it'll bring your fever down right enough. But it'll taste something foul."

"Oh, stuff it Ced," Neville snapped, "Like you could do better."

Cedric smirked, climbing over the back of the sofa and squishing in between them, "I, in fact, am quite a superb chef, thank you very much." He puffed a bit of air up over his nose, forcing some stray locks of hazel hair from his gray eyes, "But you might as well just chug it. It'll make you feel better, sure enough."

Harry shrugged with a small sigh of "I've had worse," before he ditched to spoon to just down it like Cedric said, gagging as he set the bowl back on his lap.

Neville raised an inquiring eyebrow, apparently expecting some sort of praise for his lovely handiwork in the kitchen. Harry just shook his head, covering his mouth to refrain from throwing the stuff back up, closing his eyes for a minute to keep his stomach intact. Cedric laughed, "Worse? Mate, there is nothing worse than Nev's sick potions. At least Draco's kind enough to dull them down with some sugarcane or something."

"Sugar cane is hard to come by and shouldn't be wasted on silly things like that," Neville huffed.

After a moment, Harry opened his eyes again and smiled, already feeling much better, "No, I've still had worse. I had to get my bones regrown when I was twelve. It felt like acid inside my arm, and the stuff I had to drink was the same." He made a face that caused Cedric to snicker, and Neville to roll his eyes.

There was a loud shout somewhere behind them, and they turned to see what was going on. Harry blinked in surprise as he caught sight of Draco and Seamus in what at first appeared to be a full out fight, but on closer inspection was really just a friendly scuffle, given away by the choice words thrown back and forth. "You had a bath two days ago you git!" Draco hissed, eyes narrowed in annoyance as he kept Seamus at arm's length, the shorter teen reaching as if to strangle him, to little avail.

"Yeah? That just means I've been stinky for two days then!" Seamus retorted.

"And I haven't had a decent wash since I left a month ago!" Draco growled, "I get the tub first you sodding idiot!"

Seamus flailed his arms, still unable to reach anything on the other boy besides the arm holding him back, "Fine! How about first one naked and in the tub gets it then! Fair is fair that way!"

Neville groaned and put his head in his hands, covering his eyes as Draco and Seamus immediately began racing towards one of the side rooms, stripping as they went. Oliver whooped, arms in the air as Justin, Blaise, and Ernie dashed after them, following suit, "Bathtub orgy!" he screamed.

Harry stared after them in shock as they all disappeared down one of the side tunnels, clothes left strewn across the floor in various piles. "Are they for real?" he asked, blushing furiously.

Cedric laughed, "About the orgy? No. It's just a joke, especially when Draco's around. Hot water is tight, so that's the usual arrangement, and every time Malfoy tires to get out of a group bath, but fails. Seamus loves it." He smiled, "And yeah, the tub's pretty huge, we dug it into the ground like one of those muggle pool things. It can fit seven or so of us in it with some comfortable leg room." He reached his hands over his head with a yawn, "Well, I'm off to bed then, now that those nincompoops are occupied. And I'm sure Neville has to debrief Luna on what happened on the mission, and that's secrety-stuff. So I can't stick around anyways."

"Take him with you, won't you?" Neville said, waving a hand absently as he began flicking his wand at the various articles of clothing, tossing them one by one into the fireplace to burn. "We won't be able to get a new bed until tomorrow. We'll have to go into town and snitch one, probably."

"Are you sure that's a smart idea?" Angelina called from across the room, "Blaise is in that room too."

Neville snorted, "And what would you rather have him do, sleep in the girls dorm?"

"No, 'e iz too dirty," Fleur said immediately, a frown of disproval on her pretty face.

Harry laughed, "It's fine. What can Blaise do to me anyways?"

"Seduce you," Cedric said seriously, a frown on his face. "He tries it with all the newcomers, boys or girls." He sighed, "The guy's on our side, but his blood is totally full of Death Eater traits, that being one of them." A reassuring smile lit his face, "But don't worry. I won't let him get within ten feet of you."

Draco ran a towel over his hair as he shuffled sleepily into the boy's dormitory of the base, his flannel pajamas hanging loosely off of him as he'd only half heartedly tried to button them, and had thus stopped halfway. He paused at the foot of his bunk, his eyes falling on the bed over and across from his own. Harry was sound asleep on the outside edge of it, Cedric curled against his back, one arm thrown protectively over the smaller boy's shoulders. The blonde growled in annoyance. He just didn't understand it. Why was Harry so reluctant to trust him, and yet so forward with Cedric? It frustrated him to no end.

He couldn't help but wonder too about the fact that Harry still had hardly told him anything about his other self when he so easily spilled out the life stories of everyone else. It unnerved him to say the least, and he rolled up his sleeve and scratched absently just below his elbow on his right arm, frowning in thought.

With a defeated sigh he flopped down on his mattress, letting the damp towel slide to the floor. This would be so much easier if Ron was here to tell him how to act. He'd never been good at getting along with others. But Ron was kind, and had always extended a hand to everyone. He'd tried to teach Draco to do the same, though the reluctant blond had never gotten the hang of it.

"_If you want to know a secret you have to give a secret in return, Ferret. It's only fair that way. And telling a secret means that you trust the other person, and trust is another two way deal as well. Those are the kinds of things that must be given and taken equally."_

The blond growled at the memory, trying to banish it from his thoughts as he pushed his face into his long unused pillow, smothering the noise. It wasn't that easy with Harry, and he knew it. No, whatever had happened between Harry and his other self was not his job to fix, and there was nothing he could do about that. But maybe he didn't have to fix it if he could simply prove that whatever his other self had done that made Harry dislike him wouldn't be repeated in this world. Draco smirked to himself, shaking his head at the idea. Better to fix his own problems before he tried to work on fixing those of someone who was almost a stranger. Yes, he decided, tomorrow he would talk to Neville about sending out a proper search party to find Ron and his brothers.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Yes, as you might be able to tell by now, the Draco of this world and the one we know have very different personalities at times. AU!Draco is insanely loyal to those who help him, Ron being, strangely enough, one of those few. Speaking of, we might finally get to see our little redhead next chapter for the first time. Isn't that exciting? (yeah, it's sad when the author is excited about her own story). But in this chapter it blatantly obvious that I am a secret Cedric/Harry fan. But dun worry, in this tale Cedric will only serve as Harry's protector while Draco sorts out his shit. And there's a lot of shit to sort, so I can have fun with it for awhile. :3 More of Draco's messed up past will show it's self next chapter, as will Won-Won and possibly another redhead you might not be expecting. :]

And yes, I was alluding to The Chronicles of Chrestomanci in that part back there. Read it if you haven't it's very good.

And oh, never u all worry about me ever abandoning this ficy. Cause while I might take a month to update (I'll try not to let it be more than that ever), I absolutely LOATHE people who do that, family situations and other crap or not. It's cruel to the readers. *cough*Marriage Stone*cough*Sequel to Eclipse*cough* So if u ever get impatient and think it's been too long, just email me or PM me or something, and I'll stop procrastinating, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

Falling Through Worlds: There and Back Again

***As there seems to be some tiny bit of confusion between the two worlds, they will be labeled as Harry's world, and Draco's world from now on. The world Harry originally came from, the one we're all too familiar with, and the world the alternate Draco is from. Get it? Got it? Good.***

**Harry's World**

Ron paced too and fro in front of the are of bare brick wall on the seventh floor across from where the tapestry of Barnabas and Barmy's ballet dancing trolls had once hung, the burned and shredded remains of which had long since been removed. He paused, chewing thoughtfully on his lip, eyes on the stones, traveling along minute cracks and dried up water trails.

"Oh get on with it, we hardly have all day," Draco snorted, arms crossed over his chest impatiently from where he leaned against a pillar not too far away.

The redhead merely scowled in response to the comment and continued to walk in front of the place. _Show me the room where the Half Blood Prince's book was hidden_, he thought, eyebrows furrowing together in concentration. _Show me the room where Malfoy fixed the vanishing cabinet. Show me the room where the fiend fire raged._ He blinked, looking up as the wall creaked much unlike one made of gray bricks and mortar should, a tall wooden door appearing at it's center. It was charred and crumbling, the surface and the doorknob blackened from flames and smoke. Ron's hand hesitated for a long moment before he touched the once golden doorknob, as though he was afraid of being burned by a fire long gone. The door swung open easily and he drew his wand from his robes with a nod at his companion, "Let's go."

The room inside was worse off than they'd expected and not even a single item seemed to remain intact, the ashes of thousands of lost and forgotten things billowing up from the slight breeze the opening of the door caused. The room seemed smaller than it had been years ago in it's emptiness, and Draco waved a hand in front of his face to fend off the soot. "I'm starting to have my doubts about finding anything at all," he said with a sneeze, putting a hand over his nose and mouth with a frown.

"Well we won't know until we look, now will we," Ron smiled at the other's discomfort, flicking his wand to kick up some more of the ash on the floor. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance before stalking off, beginning to do the same.

For over an hour they shifted through unintelligible remains of what had once been the treasures and trash of countless students and teachers alike. Ron's hands had become as dark as the door had been by the time Draco suddenly let out a cry of triumph. The redhead turned, watching as the blond leapt to his feet, brushing off the soot blackened cover of a tattered book he clutched tight in hand. "It can't be . . ."

Draco smirked, "Did you think Professor Snape was stupid enough not to give it _some _protection? He was a master of potions and the Dark Arts, you underestimated him, Weasel. The pages may wear and crinkle, but they will not tear or burn." He opened it, tapping the inside cover where the words "_This book belongs to the Half Blood Prince_" were scrawled in messy hand, "The cover itself is a shield charm, held in place as long as this signature remains."

"The signature?" Ron echoed, perplexed as he peered over the blonde's shoulder at the book he had not looked upon in decades.

"Words, especially names, are binding," Draco explained, closing the book and tucking it safely into the folds of his robes. "That's why important documents are required to bear one. It's as powerful as any spell and it attaches a bit of the writer's self to the paper." He paused thoughtfully, glancing up at Ron, "That map Potter has is a prime example. It bears the four signatures of the makers, correct?"

Ron's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "How do you know about the Marauder's Map?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Potter and I had to use it a few years back when we were trailing a known rouge Death Eater. One of the prick's kids was in the school so we had to guard her and catch her father when he came to take her away by force." He shrugged, though Ron looked displeased with the answer, "The scar on Potter's hand is another. If he had actually meant the words as he wrote them he would no longer be able to lie, and I'm sure that's what Umbridge had in mind." He began to walk towards the wall, midnight cloak flowing out behind him and making the ashes at his feet puff up in small clouds. "But seeing as that is not the case only shows how strong his will was against it," he went on, "And the opposite would apply for this book. The seal of the signature, the will of the writer, and the shield spell bound into the seal were strong enough to survive the fire. A little worse for wear, but more or less intact." The blond tilted his head to the side, turning back a bit to look at Ron, "You didn't happen to find anything resembling a body, did you?"

Ron shook his head, "No. But that's usually the outcome of fiend fire, is it not?"

"True enough," Malfoy admitted, "But it just seems too easy, doesn't it?" He tugged his lower lip up between his teeth in concentration, eyes scanning the soot stained floor and walls. "Well now . . ." He said softly after a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, "What have we here?" He paced forward, Ron following close behind with a confused look.

"I don't see anything," the redhead huffed as he crouched down beside where Draco was doing the same, the blond staring intently at a spot on the wall a half meter from the floor.

"And that's why I'm a higher rank Auror than you," Draco sneered, making Ron growl in frustration. He smiled, almost apologetically, pointing a finger at the smoke lines and collected ash on the spot, "Look here. The soot is all thick in this place, right?" He moved his finger over a few centimeters, "But what about here?"

Ron frowned, examining the wall closely, "There's not as much, and the burns aren't as heavy." Cautiously, he placed a hand to the wall's surface, brushing away some of the collected cinders before he pounded his fist against it. The wall echoed with a spacious thunk and Ron grinned, "Hollow."

Draco nodded, "Well, this is the room of requirement after all. If you were in need of an exit-"

"-Then one would appear," Ron finished, eyes shining. He stood, waving the blond back before he kicked the wall, sending bricks tumbling back into the opening behind.

Malfoy watched as the redhead winced, hopping on the opposite foot with a muttered curse, "Smart," he deadpanned. "And while I applaud your effort and success, I must say that only a Gryffindor would have been stupid enough to try that."

"Oh shut up!" Ron snapped.

Draco rolled his eyes, pointing his wand at the other's foot, "Episky," he muttered, smirking when Ron howled as his big toe snapped back into place, "Now get your arse over here."

Ron stalked over, peering down the gaping hole he'd created and the low winding tunnel beyond, "Now where does this go, do you think?"

"Only way to find out is to go down the rabbit hole," Draco said. His eyes glinted with mirth as he glanced at his companion, "or are you scared, Weasel?"

"As if," Ron snorted. "After you, Ferret."

**Draco's World**

_The voice whispered parseltongue into his ear, soft and almost soothing. As soothing as a slow, but deadly poison can be._

"_The-Boy-Who-Lived . . . ." "No," Harry placed his hands tight over his ears, trying to muffle the all too familiar voice, to little avail._

"_How long will you remain in this world where you do not belong?"_

"_Stop it," he closed his eyes although there had been nothing to see in his dark unconsciousness in the first place. "Stop it! You're dead! You're dead!"_

"_And did you ever think about what it means to die? If I am dead then what are you?"_

_Harry's heart stopped and fluttered with undisguised fear, "No . . . You're a liar!"_

"_The soul has left the body. You're dead," the voice hissed in his ear. "The great and powerful Harry Potter is dead."_

"_No!"_

The raven haired boy's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in small gasps as his chest heaved and his brow dripped with a cold sweat. He whimpered, biting hard on his lower lip to calm himself down. Cedric's arm had tightened around his shoulders in his sleep, but he did not wake. And for that, Harry was glad. He did not want to be seen in a moment of weakness. His concentration and senses were lost for a moment as he relaxed against the older man, eyes closing for a moment, mind lulled by the steady rise and fall of the other's chest and the heartbeat against his own back.

It was then that he felt someone's gaze on him, and his spine prickled with unease, his mind picturing slit-thin crimson eyes. He reached a hand over to the side table, fingers feeling for his glasses and he shoved them on, a groan escaping him as he caught sight of the watcher, cursing his rotten luck. Of all people to catch him waking from a nightmare, it had to be Draco Malfoy. The blond was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed one down and across, his hair returned to the bleach-blond Harry was accustomed to and his sliver-gray eyes fixed on the smaller teen with an unreadable expression. Harry was about to open his mouth and snap at him for staring when Draco spoke first.

"Would you like to see something wicked?"

Harry blinked, thrown for a loop with the suddenness of the question, "Wh-what?"

Draco merely smiled, standing up and holding out a hand, "Come on. I won't bite unless provoked, so stop acting like I will."

Slowly, Harry slid out from under Cedric's arm, trying his best not to disrupt the other's much needed rest. "This had better not be a trick, Malfoy," he muttered, hesitating before rising to his feet. He stared at the offered hand with a frown for a long moment before he took it.

"It's just outside the second barrier," Draco whispered as he led him out into the common room where the fire still crackled feebly in it's grate, pushing open the trapdoor to the outside world and scrambling up onto dew soaked grass.

Harry's skin tingled as they passed through the first barrier only a few meters from the Burrow and fell into step between the trees beyond. "Draco-" he started. The blond shushed him with a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

They took a twisting, disjointed path through the trees as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Harry shivered, pulling his hand away from Malfoy's so that he could run both over his arms as they walked. After a few more noticeable shudders and some teeth chattering, Draco turned, waving his wand over the smaller boy with an annoyed look, and a cascade of warmth flowed over him. The raven haired teen blinked in surprise while the blond turned and began to glide through the forest again. _Wordless magic . . ._ He'd never been a master of it himself, especially with Snape as a teacher in his sixth year, and was mildly impressed, wondering what the spell had been. But he kept silent, as this was apparently an important point in this unexpected outing.

Draco slipped into a small, classroom sized clearing after a few more minutes of calm stillness in their interactions, Harry close behind. The blond glanced around the area for a moment before settling into the grass on the very edge, motioning for Harry to join him with another finger to his lips, warning him to remain quiet. Harry tucked his knees underneath him, hands fisting thoughtfully into the cool blades of grass. It seemed as though they were waiting, but for what he did not know. For a second, he glanced at Malfoy, watching him with mild, but waning distrust before turning back to stare purposefully at the grass, nibbling at the inside of his lip with the faint realization that he hadn't eaten anything but Neville's soup since he'd come to this world.

He jumped as the blond suddenly turned towards him, fingers dancing over his forehead for the briefest moment before pulling away again. Harry raised a confused eyebrow, and Draco made a downwards motion with the same hand. _Oh . . ._ He thought,_ the fever. I forgot._ And by the movement, he guessed that it had dropped back to normal, he certainly felt better. He smiled and nodded, not missing the ever faint look of relief that passed through Malfoy's eyes before he returned his attention to the clearing.

The first rays of the dawn light trickled into the open space, and Harry blinked as a flurry of illumination erupted from the foliage and underbrush beyond. Tiny shimmering bits of light in all pale shades of color danced up into the air, drifting out over the grass just beneath the lowest boughs of the trees. He watched in fascination, neck craning as he tried to get the best view possible, emerald eyes as alight as the spirit-like glows. "They're morning fairies," Draco whispered almost inaudibly near his ear, "They come out every dawn here."

"Can we get closer?" Harry asked, already shifting impatiently where he sat, itching to get a better look.

Draco laughed softly, "Just move slowly, and don't be too loud, or you'll startle them." He watched with amusement as the raven haired boy jumped up, doing the exact opposite and dashing into the midst of the tiny creatures. But to the blonde's shock the fairies didn't seem to mind, much unlike when Ron had insisted on doing the same. Harry laughed, twirling around in the center of the dancing lights, hands outstretched. For a moment he would pause here and there, palms cupped as he allowed a fairy to float and dance on the tips of his fingers. He giggled at their small, tickling feet against his hands and he gently blew the creatures off. Malfoy couldn't help but laugh too as they suddenly swarmed in on the other, causing him to stumble backwards and tumble head over heals onto his back, the minute lights that were the fairies moving all across him as he screamed with laughter.

Malfoy reclined back where he sat, a small smile on his face as Harry flailed his arms, trying in vain to wave the magical things away. It had been months, years even since he'd allowed himself a moment as peaceful and as calming as this. And he had no doubt that it had been some time for the other teen as well. "Having fun, Potter?" he teased as Harry began to roll around on the grass, clutching his sides to protect them from more onslaught from persistent fairies, laughing so hard that tears rolled down his blazing red cheeks.

"O-oh shut up! I'm being tortured to death here!" Harry gasped mid laugh, one of the fairies landing perfectly on the tip of his nose.

"Well then carry on," Draco smirked, "Laughing to death would be the preferred way to go, in my opinion."

Harry pushed himself to his feet in a wild, desperate movement, throwing himself towards the blond with the fairies teeming after him. Draco yelled in surprise as the smaller boy's fingers dug into his ribs, and he keeled over backwards with a huff of laughter. The lights surrounded them as Draco pushed Harry off of him with a muffled snort, biting his lip hard to keep from laughing as the boy persistently reached to tickle him, "Truce, truce!" he pleaded.

The other sat back on his heals, the fairies hovering just over his head, beginning to vanish as the sun rose a little more, illuminating the clearing fully. Malfoy all but flinched at the hesitation and haunted look that spoke of a past betrayal that flashed through the Harry's eyes, and he warily held out a hand, "Truce," he repeated, and this time meaning more than the childish tickling.

For a heartbeat he thought Harry would refuse, but after a painfully long moment he too extended a hand, shaking Draco's. "Truce," he smiled.

"Thank you," the blond whispered, though he wasn't sure that Harry heard him. The raven haired boy was staring up at the fairies with an oddly dazed, far off look on his face, his lips parted slightly as though he was about to say something, and yet was not quite able to form the words. Draco reached up a hand to touch the other's shoulder lightly, worry pulsing through him like an electrical charge. He reared back in alarm as Harry screamed at the contact as if fiercely burned, his back arching and his eyes rolling back into his head. "Potter!"

Harry collapsed in on himself, holding his knees to his chest with a wail of obvious pain, his eyes flickering open and shut behind his glasses without any specific rhythm. "Harry!" Draco yelled, not daring to touch him again in case it was somehow his doing. "Harry! Oh . . . Sod this!" he shook his head, grabbing the smaller boy by the shoulders and pulling him up so that they were eyelevel, Harry's head twisting away from him as though he was the attacker. "Harry!" he shook him slightly, "God damn it Potter, look at me!"

With a strangled sob, Harry's eyes opened fully for a moment, emerald locking with silver-gray before they closed once more and Draco released him. Harry slumped over, falling noiselessly into the grass where the blonde immediately shifted to his side again, brushing dark bangs back from his forehead to reveal the lightning bolt scar, blazing red against pale skin. "What the hell . . ." Malfoy whispered, his voice shaking slightly as he kneeled beside the other's unconscious form. "Is _this_ what's making you sick? What the hell is this exactly . . ."

**Draco's World**

Hermione was seated properly at her desk in her afternoon maths class, chewing on the rubber of her pencil with distant eyes. _"It's almost like . . . Magic." _She shook her head, still hardly able to believe she'd admitted the phenomena to being something so absurd. And every time she blinked she thought she might wake up from the strange dream she'd fallen into. Except that when she did she could still see Thomas's empty seat two rows away, and the somberly quiet classmates and instructor.

She sighed, beginning to tap the end the pencil against the wood of the desk. It was rather tedious the way they all worried over the hulking monstrosity that had literally tried to rape her. She muttered something unintelligible under her breath in frustration, glancing out the window to distract herself.

The night before Dean had suggested that he help her practice developing the skills she'd discovered, but she had hesitated to accept. After all, she'd read books (though at the time, she'd hardly given them the thought she did now) about secret societies that captured people with supernatural powers and sentenced them to asylums and rehabilitation houses to hide them. The thought made her shudder, but she waved it away, as such secret societies were improbable. But then again, so was magic.

She rolled her eyes, unnerved by her own circular thoughts, and leaned back in her seat, fiddling with her school uniform tie. It was then that she caught sight of it, her eyes still lazily watching the window and the chilly, clouded air outside.

Someone was stumbling across the gap between the trees of the park and the playing field of the school. As the person came closer she could tell that it was a boy around her own age, though his hood was pulled up so far that she couldn't assume much, and one hand clutched his leg as though he was in pain. Hermione turned her gaze away again, trying to wave it off as some drunkard again.

After a few minutes she allowed her eyes to wander towards the playing field again, curiosity overriding her morals. The boy had his free hand on the chain link fence between the path and the field, clinging to it as though it was the only thing keeping him on his feet, and it probably was. He shuffled down the sidewalk, his feet dragging and his shoulders hunched. It was only as he drew closer that she noted that his clothes were more torn than those of most homeless people she'd seen, and she frowned. He stumbled past the building itself, only a hundred meters or so and a floor down from the window she looked out of. His hands clung to the end of the chain link fence for an agonizingly long moment in time, and she almost thought he'd collapse then and there, but amazingly, he released his death grip on the structure and began following the sidewalk away from the school.

She stared after him for a moment before her eyes wandered back the fence, lingering on the place he'd held for longer than necessary. Sunlight glinted on metal and her eyes glimpsed a sickly flash of crimson all along the links where his hand had touched, and her heart shuddered. Blood.

Hermione pushed herself up from her desk, swiping her books into her bag and shoving her chewed on pencil behind her ear, "I'm sorry, I really have to go," she said, her voice shaking, "Something's come up. I'm sorry," she apologized again as she turned tail and dashed out of the classroom and down the hall. It took her longer than she would have liked to reach the spot where she had last seen him, and she sighed as she found herself unable to find a trace of where he'd gone. What had she been thinking, really? Even if she had found him, what would she have done?

She shook her head, begging to scuff her feet against the pavement as she walked, eyes staring at the perfectly aligned cracks between the sections. Blinking, she realized that there was a drop of blood caught in one such crack, and her heart leapt with hope. It still looked wet, and that meant he couldn't have gone too far. Shifting her backpack a bit, she picked up her pace, scanning the crowded store windows and the passerby's for any sign of him. She passed an alleyway off to the side of a small, rundown coffee shop and had to backpedal, almost missing the figure slumped between two trashcans.

Letting her bag fall to the ground, she hurried over to him, heart hammering with fear, unsure of what to do should he lash out at her, or turn out to be a mugger. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself of the power she'd wielded the day before, and felt a faint wash of calm settle over her at the thought. With a steady breath, she crouched down in front of him.

He shifted, and she could clearly see his unease, his fingers shaking where he clutched the denim barely clinging to his leg. She reached out a hesitant hand towards the hood shrouding his face and was wholly surprised as he did not smack it away, merely shrinking back a bit as her fingers met the dark cloth. Hermione pulled the hood down, hazel eyes meeting clouded blue, her fingers brushing against blazing red hair. "You're hurt," she whispered softly, biting her lip as she noted the cut that carved a path from his right cheek down the side of his neck and out of sight beneath his dingy clothes. He shook his head, though the movement in itself was feeble and forced.

"You need help," she said. Another headshake. "A hospital," she began, "There's one not too far from here-"

"No hospitals," he coughed, shaking his head once more, voice hoarse from misuse.

She frowned, eyebrows furrowing together with concern, "Then what can I do to help you?"

He raised bleary blue eyes to stare at her, his mouth opening and closing for a few moments without words, "Muggle . . . Can't do anything. Can't . . ." His hand tightened on his pants leg, and her eyes traveled down to it to see that the cloth between his fingers was soaked through with scarlet. "Hide . . . I need to hide," he said after a moment, and her eyes flicked up to him again.

"Anything you need," she promised with a small nod, though she wasn't sure why she felt so compelled to help him at all. "My place isn't too far from here . . . Do you think you can make it? It's about six blocks." But as she said the words, she felt as if the distance had increased tenfold, "G-give me your hand," she instructed firmly, standing up and extending her own towards him.

After a moment of silence, he did so, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. She placed his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the smear of blood that streaked across her ivory uniform at the contact, "I'll get you there," she whispered, "All right?" His nod was barely there, but she took it as a sign to begin walking.

The road did indeed seem to take much longer than she remembered it doing so before, and the worst was the stairs up to her apartment, and fumbling with the keys with her free hand. Faintly, she remembered dropping her bag back in the alleyway, and decided to go back for it later as she dragged the redhead towards the spare room next to her own, and thanked god her parents had decided a trip to Cambodia was great getaway, and would thus be gone for the rest of the month. She laid him down on the mattress, gulping at the amount of blood that had congealed on her hands before she wiped it off on her skirt, reaching for the phone.

She called Dean, as she didn't really have anyone else to call in a situation like this, and told him the location of her bag and rattled off a list of things she would need from the local pharmacy before she hung up and raced to the bathroom, gathering her family's small first aid kit and bringing it back.

Hermione winced at the cut on his neck as she removed his coat, using a knife to slice it down the middle rather than tugging it over his head should she break open any of the numerous wounds on his person. The same treatment was given for the shirt beneath, and she tossed them aside to be thrown into the waste-bin later. Similar cuts to the one on his throat snaked down his chest, which rose and fell in a rapid, uneven way that made her uneasy. She withdrew a bottle of disinfectant ointment from the first aid box, opening it and smearing the stuff around on her fingers before applying it to the wound on his neck.

He hissed and arched up as she touched him, teeth clenching in obvious pain, and she made nervous shushing noise in the back of her mouth, using her free hand to grip his shoulder and hold him down. And she had to keep him down as she applied the stuff all across his chest. "I can't believe you're alive with all of this," she said through a mouthful of gauze bandage as she tore a long strip from the roll, one hand still holding her patient down as he squirmed, "Most people would have died."

Either he didn't hear the comment or he simply ignored it, allowing her to roll him onto his side as she began to bind his chest. She carried on in silence until she had finished, moving down to the end of the bed to take a look at his leg. "Dean can check the rest of you when he gets here," she muttered, mostly to herself, "but I can at least bind your leg too." She turned his already shredded pant's leg into a absolute ribbons, cutting the denim away until she had the wound bared before her. The boy seemed to have fallen unconscious, but she paid that fact little head as she wadded up a towel and pressed it to the slow ooze of blood.

The doorbell rang, and she didn't look up from her work, "It's open Dean!" she called, reaching for the bottle of disinfectant again.

The dark skinned teen entered, arms laden with her school books and bags of medical supplies that she had requested. "Holy-" he started.

Hermione shook her head, "Later. Can you bind any other wounds you find here?" she gestured to everywhere below the pants, "and this leg? Make sure to use this stuff on it first," she tossed the bottle of disinfectant at him, "I'll go find some clean clothes and get some water boiling."

After some thorough searching in her father's closet she found some old pajamas that would fit the redhead, though she had a feeling they might be a little too short in the legs, and she left them outside the spare room door and went to go boil some water for tea and some hot-packs.

When she finally dared venture back into the room Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, a haunted look in his eyes. "Where the hell'd you find this guy 'Mione? He's like an escapee from a concentration camp with injuries like that." He ran an unsteady hand through his hair as she offered him a cup of tea, and he gladly accepted, "God . . . It's just . . ." He couldn't find the words, and just shook his head.

"Sorry to get you involved," she whispered, glancing at the unconscious stranger in the bed they sat on the edge of. Dean had tucked him into the layers of blankets on his relatively uninjured left side, his chest still rising and falling with shallow breaths, a shiver passing down his thin frame. Hermione stood and took the hot water filled packs and pushed them under the blankets on either side of him, going to the window to check that it was securely shut.

Dean watched her for a moment before he spoke again, "The thing that I really don't get is the locket," he started, only to have her eyes meet his in confusion. "Didn't you see it?" he asked, perplexed to how she couldn't have. He moved to the other side of the bed, drawing the covers back just enough for her to see his neck and shoulders that lay exposed as the pajama top, just a little to large, slipped down his body, "Between his collar bones, don't you see it?"

She blinked, startled as she noticed the thing for the first time. It was an unearthly polished silver, small enough t fit in the palm of the hand with an ornate S carved into it's front. And it was seared into the boy's skin, the chain hanging loosely but the locket glued to his sternum, the area around it raw and red as though it was hot. "What the . . ."

"I don't know," Dean said, shaking his head, "But it's definitely not normal. You don't think it could be . . ." He drew off, waiting for her response without speaking the word.

"For all I know, it could be. I don't know a thing about magic, but this sodding looks like it, doesn't it," she crossed her arms over he chest, deep in thought. "But until he wakes up, there's not a whole lot we can do about it."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

The mysterious and strangely absent before now AU!Ron appears! :3 and yeah, he's wearing _that locket_. Again, not much to say about this chapter, really. Because that would be a spoiler. Oh, except that yeah, I did allude to Lord Of The Rings in the title, and Alice In Wonderland in one of Draco's lines. That's it. = 3=

This is, overall, the very all around Ron-Ron chapter, it seems tho. Lol. :]


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